


Upside Down and Inside Out

by mskatej



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/pseuds/mskatej
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about the transcendent, giddy highs that come with diving headfirst into a love affair with exactly the right person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t have the words to adequately express how grateful I am to [thatotherperv](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv), my good friend and very patient beta reader. Trust me when I say the first draft I sent her looks absolutely nothing like the (much improved) finished product, and the fact that this story is even coherent at all is down to her awesome, insightful work.
> 
> Although I’m posting this in four chapters, it is finished. I’m spacing out delivery purely because it’s long and I don’t want you getting desensitized to all the sexytimes.

People say life is a rollercoaster. 

People say a lot of things, most of them stupid, but there are certain aphorisms that resonate with Mike, and that’s one of them. His life has never run smoothly, maybe never will, but at least these days all those surprising twists and unexpected turns are never anything less than exhilarating.

He’s worked for Harvey for seventeen months. 

Seventeen months. 

He met Harvey seventeen months ago and his world spun around on its axis, and his life got good. He’s becoming the person he wants to be, and it’s all down to one man. 

Harvey didn’t need to give Mike his chance in life and his reasons for doing it were not remotely altruistic. He’s getting as much out of this as Mike is, and that’s what makes their partnership so effective.

Harvey puts himself first and yet still manages to give Mike everything he ever wanted. That’s Harvey’s great talent. It’s what makes him Harvey.

And Mike likes every version of Harvey that he’s met:

  * the charming hardass whose legal gifts earn the firm loyal clients and their hard-earned cash;
  * the schoolyard douche who takes pleasure in mocking the crap out of Louis and making first year associates feel irrelevant;
  * the petulant renegade of Jessica’s heart and nightmares;
  * the kind, ethical softie Donna and Ray worship and adore;
  * the irritable boss Mike would walk over hot coals for.



He likes every version—even the ones who infuriate him—with an intensity he’s never experienced before. Even bickering with him, or being told off by him, is more exiting, more fulfilling, than having a civil conversation with anyone else. 

But without a doubt the thing Mike finds most interesting about their relationship, is the way Harvey is behind closed doors. 

~

The first time they get together Mike initiates it, but the truth is, Harvey started it, two months prior to their first kiss, on a night that changed Mike’s life forever.

Mike had accompanied Harvey to a charity gala for autism where Harvey’s attempt to sign a new client—a woman called Caroline Matheson, widowed, pushing sixty but still beautiful, obscenely rich but insecure and unhappy—didn’t go according to plan. She adored Harvey but that night she regretfully informed him she was going another way and refused to give him an explanation. Harvey spotted Caroline an hour later out on a secluded balcony, in the company of Dan Grayson, a thirty-one year old pretty-boy lawyer who was already a junior partner at his family’s law firm Grayson & Grayson, and their body language made it blindingly obvious they were sleeping together. 

Harvey was furious. Not about failing to sign Caroline, but about the way in which it happened; he refused to admit it to Mike, but Mike knew Harvey was genuinely worried about her. And when Harvey swore to Mike he’d destroy the career of that unscrupulous fucking vulture if it was the last thing he ever did, Mike had to make a conscious effort to keep the hero worship off his face.

They left the gala and went for a drink at a nearby bar, where Harvey proceeded to get drunker than Mike had ever seen him. 

“You’re really taking this to heart,” Mike said. “Maybe you should slow down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Harvey snapped, but he mellowed out after a few more whiskeys, and Mike learned an interesting thing that night about Harvey: he’s a nice drunk, if a little broody on that particular occasion.

It wasn’t what you’d call a fun night but Mike hadn’t been in any hurry for it to end, and when Harvey finally suggested they go their separate ways Mike took it upon himself to see Harvey safely home. He even walked him to his door, not because Harvey was too far gone to get there alone—he was walking a little slower than normal but in a perfectly straight line—but because he sensed Harvey needed the company. And the fact that Harvey hadn’t actually told him to get lost was confirmation enough that he valued Mike’s presence.

When Harvey unlocked the door, instead of walking inside he turned around to face Mike, who was nodding at him, hands in pockets, giving him his best ‘are you gonna be okay now?’ smile. But Harvey didn’t say anything, not at first. He tilted his head, a small smile on his face, his eyes intense. 

“Do you wanna come inside?”

It took Mike several seconds to figure out that Harvey was propositioning him, and he could tell that the surprise he felt was reflected in his facial expression because Harvey’s smile turned faintly sheepish.

This turn of events alarmed Mike for a number of reasons: the first being that Harvey, as his boss, should not be hitting on him; it was technically sexual harassment and they were both lucky Mike didn’t feel remotely uncomfortable, nor under any actual pressure to capitulate. 

The second reason for Mike’s alarm was that, while in the moment he wasn’t able to identify every single emotion the situation had engendered, he was acutely aware that his response was primarily a positive one: he was highly flattered that a man like Harvey found him attractive, and he was also immediately curious about what it might be like to kiss him. 

Which led to the third reason for Mike’s alarm, and the thing that made him decide to get the fuck out of there before anything happened: he had never been with a guy before, he had never kissed a guy before, and he had never fantasized about a guy before. The truth was, he’d never had a reason to question his sexual orientation until that very moment; as far as Mike was concerned he was heterosexual, although the way Harvey was looking at him gave him pause. He’d never been sexually attracted to men, and he wasn’t even sure he was sexually attracted to Harvey. But...it was Harvey. And Mike adored the guy, pretty much unconditionally, so discovering that his feelings for Mike possibly went beyond the professional, and beyond friendship, and that Harvey clearly wasn’t as heterosexual as Mike had always assumed, was really fucking confusing. 

“I better not,” Mike said, with a warm smile because he didn’t want Harvey to take it personally. “You should get some sleep. I’ll see you Monday.”

Harvey nodded, stepped inside and closed the door. 

Mike turned and left, and spent the next two months freaking out, while Harvey didn’t once acknowledge the moment and continued treating Mike as he’d always treated him.

~

On the subject of sexuality Mike had read everything he could get his mitts on, and soon became well versed in its discursive history, and feeling pretty relaxed about where he fell on the Kinsey scale (a 2, probably). He likes the idea of sexuality as a fluid continuum, a wide and complex spectrum, and that his place within it is his alone and no one else gets to tell him it isn’t normal or right. Even if there were such a thing as normal, Mike has never been that and he doesn’t aspire to it. His brain can do things the majority of humans can’t even dream of, and this Harvey thing, and all the possibilities that come with it, is too damn interesting to ignore. He's primarily attracted to women, true, but it turns out he has some homosexual leanings, because while he’d never considered sex with a man before Harvey, he’d also never met Harvey before Harvey. 

And when he hadn't been researching gender, sexuality and the mechanics of gay sex, (or working), Mike had been thinking about Harvey almost constantly. 

In bed at night he started imagining Harvey having sex. At first his fantasies were voyeuristic: Harvey showing a woman the time of her life. That soon morphed into fantasies of Harvey showing a _man_ the time of _his_ life.

The first time he involved himself and fantasized about kissing Harvey he felt weird and guilty about it and didn’t try again for four more days. Instead, when he was too wired to sleep, he'd kept his mind occupied by watching gay porn: most of it left him cold but some of it he found erotic; all of it had been educational. And then he just got over the guilt and started jerking off to fantasies about fucking Harvey on a nightly basis. 

He was intrigued by anal sex. He’d done it before, with various girlfriends, a couple of whom enjoyed it a lot. But with a man, it would be… Would Harvey want to be fucked? Mike liked the idea of it, and when he first introduced anal sex to his nightly fantasies, he always topped. But the day he switched and imagined himself being penetrated, imagined Harvey holding him down and fucking him, was the day he had a singularly intense orgasm, so he'd come to the conclusion that his preference would likely be to bottom.

By the time he musters the courage to make a move, they’re at the office late on a Friday evening and no one else is around. 

Mike’s crush is at fever pitch. He’s in absolutely no doubt that he wants Harvey. It’s been eight weeks to the day since Harvey propositioned him and Mike is not only ready, he’s gasping for it. 

“You can go,” Harvey says, in a tone of voice that makes it clear he isn’t sure why Mike is still there. “Enjoy your weekend.”

“I don’t mind staying,” Mike says, feeling mildly panicked about the thought of not seeing Harvey for two whole days. “Or, you know, we could go for a drink.”

Harvey looks surprised and takes his time responding. “No thanks.”

Mike stands up and walks over to him and says, “Can you stand up for a second?” Harvey spins his chair until he’s facing Mike and looks up at him with a quizzical frown, but after a few seconds’ contemplation he stands up. Mike moves in a little closer.

“What are you doing?” Harvey asks.

Mike looks over one shoulder then the other, and then he leans in and pecks Harvey on the lips.

“Whoa,” Harvey says, putting a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder and pushing him back, holding him at arm’s length. “Mike, what the hell?”

“You’re not into it?” Mike immediately wonders whether he imagined the entire thing. “Really?”

Harvey’s equivocal scoff assuages Mike’s paranoia somewhat. 

“Oh good,” Mike says. “So what’s the problem?”

“Mike, I—” Harvey is actually speechless. “Uh—where is this coming from?”

“Couple months ago.” Mike points his thumb over his shoulder. “Night of the gala. I walked you to your door. You gave me the signal.”

“The ‘signal’? Really.” Harvey squints. “I don’t think so.”

“I was there,” Mike says. “It definitely happened. You asked me if I wanted to come inside.” 

“As friends,’ Harvey says, nodding. “I wasn’t hitting on you.”

“You really were,” Mike insists, leaning in and kissing Harvey again. He lingers this time, and parts his lips to make it wetter, arousal zipping through his body when Harvey doesn’t pull away. 

“I can’t,” Harvey says, but he’s staring at Mike’s mouth and isn’t budging.

“Yeah you can.” And this time when Mike kisses him, Harvey leans into it, opens his mouth and slides his tongue against Mike’s before pulling away. 

“Shit.” He’s breathing hard. Mike closes the gap between them and kisses him again, clutching Harvey’s biceps to keep him still, and they make out for about five seconds before Harvey pulls away again and takes a step back. “This is a terrible idea. Have you thought this through?”

“It’s all I’ve thought about for two months. I won’t lie, I’ve never been with a guy before. But I know I definitely like you.”

“You like me.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re...attracted to me.”

Mike laughs softly. “Oh hell yeah.”

Harvey stands there, unmoving, staring at Mike and apparently weighing up his options. “Fuck it,” he says finally, grabbing Mike by the back of his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. 

They should probably go to Harvey’s place, or at least somewhere that isn’t work, and they keep saying they’ll do exactly that between kisses, but instead they do the riskiest thing imaginable and have sex on the couch in Harvey’s see-through office with the lights turned off. 

They don’t _fuck_ fuck. Mike doesn’t feel ready to do that and is relieved it doesn’t come up. But they do both get their cocks out and they do both come. Mike not only gets to see Harvey’s erect penis he gets to put his hands on it. 

They make out standing up by the desk for several minutes before Harvey suggests moving to the couch.

“I thought you wanted to go to your place.”

“I do. We will. Soon.” He goes and turns off the lights.

On the couch Harvey maneuvers Mike into straddling him so they can grind against each other while they kiss. And then Harvey unzips his pants and takes out his cock, looking up at Mike almost like he’s daring him to touch it. 

It’s the first cock Mike has ever touched other than his own. He doesn’t spend as much time inspecting it as he’d like, and the darkness prevents him getting a good look, but he notices that it’s big (of course it is; Mike would have been disappointed—and surprised—had it been any other way): an inch or so longer than Mike’s but a similar thickness. It’s warm and smooth and stiff in Mike’s hand, and when he brushes his thumb slowly over the head he feels wetness. 

Kneeling astride Harvey’s lap, he strokes him, slow at first, while Harvey opens Mike’s pants so he can touch him in return. Sliding their cocks together they watch each other get more and more worked up, speeding up the pace as they approach orgasm, and they come within seconds of each other, their foreheads touching while they catch their breath. 

Mike goes home alone afterwards on a pretty spectacular high, in a shirt covered in come stains. 

~

He just had sex. Good sex. With a man. A man he really likes and can’t wait to see again. 

~

Harvey doesn’t call Mike all weekend, and their only contact is a disheartening text exchange, that happens later on Friday night:

Mike: So that was fun.  
Harvey: Yes

Mike honestly doesn’t know what else to say so he decides to play it cool, but by Monday morning he’s in a cranky mood. He had hoped Harvey would invite him over to his place at some point, but when he didn’t Mike worried that perhaps Harvey hadn’t enjoyed the sex as much as Mike had, or that he regretted it and had made the decision to not pursue something with Mike after all. Normally when Mike’s annoyed with Harvey he confronts him right away, or at least within a day, but this isn’t a normal situation and he’s at a loss for how to handle it. In the end he goes with his gut.

It’s 11am. “Can I go in?” he asks Donna, who waves him in without looking up from what she’s doing.

Harvey’s smile gives nothing away.

“Hey,” Mike says, settling into the comfy black chair sitting adjacent to Harvey’s desk. “Good weekend?”

“Very,” Harvey says. Enigmatic bastard.

“So...” Mike says, keeping his expression neutral but raging internally at Harvey, who is obviously enjoying making this as awkward as possible. “Do we need to talk about—”

“Not at work,” Harvey cuts in. He looks at Donna through the glass and then back at Mike, an expression on his face that makes it clear there’s no point arguing with him. “Friday. Meet me at my place at nine.”

Mike can’t believe it. The ‘not at work’ thing is understandable, but he can’t believe he has to wait five fucking days before Harvey is even willing to talk about what happened, and although he presumes the invitation to go to Harvey’s place means Harvey wants to have sex again, it’s not exactly guaranteed. What if Harvey really does just want to talk? What if he wants to let Mike down easy? Mike leaves Harvey’s office that morning annoyed and frustrated, emotions that linger throughout the week, as Harvey’s treatment of him remains entirely and infuriatingly professional.

By the time Friday night rolls around Mike is near breaking point. He can’t even muster a smile for Harvey when the door opens and he’s invited inside Harvey’s ridiculous—and fucking amazing, goddamn him—penthouse. He follows Harvey into the kitchen and sullenly watches him pour them both a glass of red wine.

“You okay?” Harvey asks him. 

Mike accepts the glass and takes a slug from it before setting it down on the counter. “Yep.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I dunno,” Mike says, feeling a rant building inside him. “Maybe I didn’t want to wait an entire week before you deigned to talk to me about what’s going on between us. Maybe this is actually a big deal for me and you acting like it doesn’t mean anything is exceptionally douchey.”

At least Harvey has the grace to look sheepish. “Okay, that’s fair. I’m sorry I didn’t make an effort to speak to you until now.”

“Did you just apologize to me?” Mike frowns. “Who are you and what have you done with Harvey Specter?”

“Don’t get used to it. I had my reasons, okay? Last Friday was...” He stops; seems reluctant to continue talking.

“Last Friday was what?” Mike says. “Totally hot? Something you’ve been wanting to do for a while? The worst thing that’s ever happened to you? A huge mistake? What, Harvey? Jesus Christ, this whole taciturn act you’ve got going on is driving me crazy, and not in a good way.”

Harvey rubs his hand over his face and sighs. “Okay, listen. Last Friday was great. Totally hot, as you put it so eloquently.” He scratches the back of his head and regards Mike with a contemplative frown. “But this...” He points his index finger at Mike and his thumb at himself, rocking his hand back and forth. “...is complicated. I needed the week to figure things out.”

“...And?”

Harvey responds with a wry laugh.

Mike bows his head and chuckles, before looking back up at Harvey. “You haven’t figured anything out yet, have you.”

“Not one thing,” Harvey says, shaking his head.

“What do you want to do?”

Harvey taps his lips with the tip of his index finger as he gazes at Mike. “Take you to bed.”

Mike grins. “Cool.”

“‘Cool’?”

“Yeah. Cool.” Mike bounces a little on the balls of his feet. “Um.” Why does he suddenly feel completely out of his depth? “Now?”

The way Harvey shuts his eyes and exhales through parted lips suggests that Mike’s uncertainty pleases him. He takes a step closer, his eyes moving around Mike’s face. “Are you nervous?”

Mike has to admit that he is indeed nervous. More so than he had been a week ago, which makes no sense whatsoever, but Harvey seems to be responding to his nerves in a way that Mike finds super hot. So he says, “Yeah.”

Harvey licks his lips and his breathing quickens. He puts a hand on Mike’s face, fingers gripping the back of Mike’s head and then he leans in and kisses Mike on the mouth, self assured and passionate. “Don’t be nervous,” Harvey murmurs. “We’re not going to do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay?”

“Okay. I trust you.”

“Good.” He takes Mike’s hand and squeezes it. “It’s gonna be great.” Harvey kisses him again and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close and keeping him steady with the sensual caress of his mouth. They stop kissing and Harvey takes Mike’s hand back in his, and leads him to the bedroom.

It’s Mike’s first time in Harvey’s bedroom, and it’s a space he feels instantly comfortable in. It’s so pretentious and perfectly Harvey that Mike embraces it as his own the moment he crosses its sacred threshold. The future flashes before his eyes: lazy weekends spent in bed doing crosswords or playing chess or reading the paper or talking; tons and tons of sex; standing side by side in front of the window gazing out at the spectacular view; kissing, cuddling, sleeping. 

It takes them ages to strip. They both help and distract each other, flinging away ties, unbuttoning shirts, stopping to make out, or talk. Mike uses the opportunity to ask Harvey about his sexual history, a terrible thing to do to someone you’re about to sleep with, but necessary.

“Have you been with many men?”

Harvey doesn’t seem to mind. “Not that many. And not for a while. I actually thought I was over that phase.”

“I cannot believe you just said that.”

Harvey grins. “What can I say, I had a varied sex life in my twenties, but I only had one relationship with a guy; a TA at Harvard: arrogant, gorgeous, brilliant. I was crazy about him.”

The jealousy Mike feels at hearing Harvey talk about being in love with someone else nearly overwhelms him. 

It must be noticeable because Harvey takes Mike’s face in his hands, gives him a reassuring smile, and presses a soft, tender kiss to Mike’s mouth. 

Mike feels instantly better, but also terrified. The effect Harvey has on him is potent; apparently he has the ability to control Mike’s emotions. All Mike can hope for is that Harvey continues to respect that power. 

“We dated for four months. He hurt me. I hurt him back. We went our separate ways and I haven’t seen or heard from him since, nor do I ever want to. Other than him, the occasional drunken screw at a party. One guy I went out with a couple times when I was thirty-four. And now you.”

They’re naked and standing up next to the bed in each other’s arms.

“Why me?”

Harvey kisses him. “Are you kidding me? Jesus.” He kisses him again.

“Tell me. I wanna hear it.”

It makes Mike’s chest hurt the way Harvey doesn’t tease him about his shameless compliment fishing and instead tells him the truth in a way that makes it clear he wants to say it and isn’t just surrendering to Mike’s ego. “You’re the most exciting person I’ve ever met.”

They climb into bed, under the covers, kissing and groping each other. Mike is so turned on he worries he won’t last long, but Harvey soon notices how close Mike is to the edge—the increasingly erratic movement of Mike’s hips probably gave it away—and he slows things down, holding Mike still and kissing him on the mouth for a while, until Mike feels in control, body an inch nearer neutral, ready for things to get more stimulating again. 

They lie side by side, facing each other, gyrating slowly, rubbing their cocks together, looking at each other.

“What do you want to do?”

“I wanna taste you,” Harvey says. “I wanna suck your cock. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Mike thrusts his hips forward and flings his head back, gasping.

“Before I do that I’d like you to suck me. I won’t come, but I want my cock in your mouth. And I want you to enjoy it.”

Mike nods. “I want to. I want to do it.”

“I know,” Harvey says, smiling and leaning in to kiss him. “I wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t think you wanted it.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crawls down the bed, settling in between Harvey’s legs and looking up at him from under the covers. “You ready?”

Harvey stares at him for a while and then just cracks up. He can’t stop, he can’t stop laughing, and it’s charming and funny because he has one of those near-silent laughs that’s mostly under the breath but still out of control and totally contagious. So Mike bursts out laughing too, a helpless gut reaction, and the two of them laugh until they have tears in their eyes. They catch their breaths and grin at each other. Harvey says, “I’m ready,” and he takes hold of his cock and points it at Mike’s chin. He glances down at it and then back into Mike’s eyes. “Suck it.”

The change in mood is abrupt but erotic, and in that moment Mike wants nothing more than to do exactly as Harvey says. He wraps his hand around Harvey’s cock, bends his head and pushes his tongue into the slit, lapping at the smooth, salty skin, and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the swollen head. This is his first taste of another man’s cock and he has no intention of rushing it; he wants to savor every moment, every smell, every flavor, every sound Harvey makes.

It feels both right and scandalous, like he’s losing his virginity again, but not, because he has tons of experience sleeping with women. 

But all the women and book reading in the world couldn’t have prepared him for what it would feel like the first time he kisses a man’s penis. He drags his tongue from the base of Harvey’s cock up to the tip and he mouths his way back down, marveling at the silken texture, and it’s so sexy he feels the promise of an orgasm settle beneath his skin, spurring him on and heightening the sensual joy of having this kind of control over someone he finds so incredibly attractive. Sucking on Harvey is a wonderful experience: to have Harvey in the palm of his hand, the distinctive taste of him on his tongue; to be responsible for the pleasure Harvey’s feeling; to be able to give that to Harvey, to be the cause of the ecstatic sounds tumbling out of Harvey’s open mouth, to make Harvey come...

Mike bobs his head up and down, sucking hard and wet, listening to the noises Harvey makes because those noises are a language Mike needs to learn. The louder moans indicate that Mike is doing something right, the choked out sighs that Mike has surprised him, the whimpers that Harvey isn’t far from orgasm.

But they don’t get that far because Harvey doesn’t want to come before Mike, even though Mike is pretty desperate to make that happen. Harvey hooks his hands under Mike’s arms and tugs him upwards, and Mike reluctantly crawls up Harvey’s body until he’s hovering over him, eye to eye. “I’ll come, don’t worry, just not until you have.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it does.”

Mike ruts against him. “Fine,” he says. “Make me come.”

So they switch places, with Mike on his back, legs akimbo, his cock in Harvey’s warm, wet mouth. 

Mike knows the exact number of times he’s had his cock sucked (sixty three) and he remembers each time perfectly. It isn’t as though Harvey is doing anything particularly different from the girls who sucked him, and maybe it’s because doing the same for Harvey a moment ago has aroused him to the point of near-orgasm, or maybe it’s because it’s Harvey, but this particular blow-job feels better than any he’s had previously; Mike’s cock is so sensitive he lasts less than a minute before he comes in Harvey’s mouth, gazing down at him, riveted, as Harvey swallows Mike’s load with a satisfied smile. 

Job done, Harvey is perfectly contented to jerk off and come on Mike’s chest while Mike tries his best to stay awake.

~

The next morning Mike wakes up to Harvey’s hands sliding all over his skin, the solid weight of his erection nestled between Mike’s ass cheeks, shifting up and down at a delectably slow pace. Harvey kisses his neck and whispers, “Morning.”

“Hi,” Mike mumbles, eyes remaining resolutely shut. He pushes back against Harvey’s lazy rutting and gasps when Harvey wraps a hand around Mike’s stiffening cock. 

“I wanna fuck you,” Harvey whispers, massaging the head of his cock against Mike’s asshole. “Will you let me?”

Mike shivers in Harvey’s arms, an intense pulse of arousal surging through him and overriding any and all objections he may have had to taking that particular step at this particular time. He’d expected his first foray into the world of penetrative sex with a man to be more of an event—not necessarily accompanied by a candlelit dinner, flowers and chocolates, but certainly not a sleepy morning fuck before he’s even had a chance to wake up properly—but the fact that his mind isn’t firing on all cylinders, his body is still anesthetized from sleep, and he’s insanely turned on by the very thought of being fucked by Harvey makes it seem like a genuinely good plan. So he says, “Yes.”

He doesn’t bother opening his eyes, he simply listens with amusement at Harvey scrambling around behind him gathering all the necessary provisions. He does however moan in protest when Harvey pulls the covers off him and tells him to lie flat on his stomach.

“Cold!”

“You won’t be cold for long,” Harvey says, breathless and unrepentant. “I wanna look at you. Spread your legs.”

Mike follows Harvey’s orders and hugs his pillow, yelping when cold slick fingers make contact with his butt.

“Stop being a baby,” Harvey said, pushing a finger inside Mike. “Jesus. Oh Christ. I can’t wait to—” Instead of finishing his sentence he sucks in several shaky breaths, exhaling loud and fast. 

Harvey is penetrating him, Harvey is inside him. 

Both Rachel and Jenny had fingered him—what was that about anyway? Is that something all women do these days or did he just get super lucky with his last two girlfriends?—and he’d enjoyed it then; he’s enjoying it even more now. It feels so personal, so intimate. So fucking dirty. Occasionally a flash of reality alights in his mind’s eye and he feels bowled over by the fact that it’s Harvey behind him, working him open with long, practiced fingers, panting and excited and in a hurry to get Mike prepped enough so he can put his dick in there. 

This is it. Harvey is about to stick his cock in Mike’s butt and if Mike had been in any doubt about how comfortable he was with discovering the myriad joys of gay sex before that morning, he is in no doubt now. He likes the way Harvey’s fingers feel and he’s dying to know what a penis will feel like. “I’m ready,” he says.

Harvey groans and climbs in between Mike’s legs and Mike listens to him pull a condom from the strip, tear open the wrapper, put it on. Mike knows it’s for the best, although he’d let Harvey fuck him bareback if he wanted to.

It doesn’t hurt. It feels unusual at first and the stretch is intense; Mike feels that it probably should hurt given Harvey’s size, but perhaps the relaxed state of his body first thing in the morning means it’s genuinely the ideal time to lose his ass virginity, because as Harvey slowly speeds up the pace, pushing in deep each time and holding himself inside with his hips flush against Mike’s ass before pulling nearly all the way out and thrusting back in...there it is. Mike gasps at the sensation and knows exactly what he’s feeling but never in a million years had he expected it to be that pleasurable: Harvey’s cock has made its acquaintance with Mike’s prostate, and Mike suddenly understands how the boys in the gay porn he sampled could still enjoy themselves even without their erection, because this is...sensational.

“Oh my God,” he chants, pressing back, building a rhythm with Harvey. “Oh wow.”

Harvey’s voice a strained whisper, “Is that good, baby?”

And Harvey calling him baby should be funny, or weird, or creepy, or at least surprising, but it instead has the effect of making Mike shove back harder and shout _yes_ , to which Harvey replies, “You’re so good, you’re perfect,” and a few seconds later Harvey comes. 

He was quicker than Mike had expected him to be, but that just makes it better, because it means he lost control, it means he was too turned on by Mike to be able to last longer; he’s a forty year old guy who likely has a ton of stamina under normal circumstances, but that morning, the first time he put his cock inside Mike, he was so excited he came within a minute and a half. 

Mike clutches his pillow and pants, his entire body abuzz with pleasure; the proverbial post-coital bliss, and even though he hasn’t come he feels incredibly satisfied, and incredibly affectionate. Harvey has tumbled off him onto his back, so he crawls into Harvey’s arms and kisses him all over his face; soft, wet kisses on his chin and cheeks and forehead and eyelids and lips, and Harvey just hums and smiles, looking more contented than Mike has ever seen him. 

“That was...Harvey that was really amazing.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m really into you. You know that right?”

Harvey doesn’t open his eyes but his smile widens. “Good.”

Mike grins and begins to suck on Harvey’s neck just above his collarbone while Harvey trails fingers up and down Mike’s back. “I’m giving you a hickey,” Mike tells him, and gets back to work. 

Harvey laughs and murmurs, “You little shit.” But he doesn’t try to stop him. Instead he groans softly and slides his hand up Mike’s back, wraps it around the back of his neck and squeezes.

After a minute or so Mike pushes back against Harvey’s firm grip so he can admire his darkening red bruise. “Oh my God that’s so hot. Your collar will hide it but I’ll know it’s there.” Chest next: Mike plants his mouth on Harvey’s chest just above his nipple and sucks and sucks, using his teeth for maximum damage. 

He spends the next hour kissing and licking his way up and down Harvey’s body and giving him ten hickeys—“A nice round number” Mike informs him—in a haphazard pattern over his torso and neck and when he’s finally done and satisfied with the results, he straddles Harvey and masturbates, coming all over Harvey’s love-bitten chest, all of which Harvey enjoys so much he gets hard enough and aroused enough to have his second orgasm of the morning only a minute after Mike. 

“Jesus Christ,” Harvey says, falling onto his back again and gasping for breath. “I haven’t done that since I was in my twenties.”

Mike mops up the mess on Harvey’s chest with a wad of tissues, which he then chucks behind him onto the floor. “What? Had a guy give you ten hickeys?”

“No,” Harvey says. “That experience was brand new. I was referring to all the orgasms I just had.”

“Oh yeah.” Mike fist bumps Harvey’s upper arm. “Two in the space of an hour. That’s impressive. Even I would struggle to pull that off and I’m way younger than you.”

Harvey pulls the covers up to his chin and burrows deeper into his pillow, eyes shut so tight he resembles a mole. “Feel free to leave at any point.”

Mike rolls out of bed, lands on his feet on the floor and grins down at Harvey, who doesn’t look like he has any intention of moving for a while. “I’m going, I’m going, I’ve got shit to do anyway. Can I grab a shower?”

“Yeah,” Harvey mumbles and dozes off.

Mike showers, dresses and returns to stand at the side of the bed, in which Harvey is still fast asleep. He leans down, tilts his head and kisses Harvey on the lips. “Bye,” he whispers. 

Harvey opens his eyes briefly. “Where are you going?”

“Home. Call me later?”

“Mm,” Harvey replies, which Mike takes to mean yes, and then he lets himself out and goes home, where he catches up on all the boring domestic chores he’s been putting off for weeks. He cleans his entire apartment with the stereo blasting out a mix of classic seventies soul, and sings along to Barry White’s ‘Never, Never Gonna Give You up’ at the top of his lungs. 

By the time he gets back from the laundromat with two full bags of fresh smelling clothes, towels and bed linen, it’s six o’clock and his stomach is telling him he needs to put something in it asap. He’s in the mood for pizza. He finds his phone lying on his bed and frowns at the lack of messages from Harvey. There had seriously better not be a repeat of last weekend, with Mike waiting for a fucking phone call that never came and spending the following week at work wondering whether Harvey was even still interested in him. His fingers hover over the keys as he contemplates what message he wants to send, in the end keeping it simple.

_Do I really have to wait until Monday before I see you again?_

His heart thumps in his chest as he holds his phone in his hand, staring at the screen and waiting for a reply, which comes thirty seconds later.

_Where are you?_

_Home._

And then much to Mike’s irritation Harvey doesn’t respond, but at least his pizza is hot when it arrives twenty minutes later.

At nine o’clock Mike is furious and has reached a decision to call Harvey and yell at him for being an inconsiderate jerk. Of course that’s when, and with the kind of magical timing only a person as blessed as the great Harvey Specter could possibly have, there’s a knock at the door. 

There stands the man himself, wearing a charcoal button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, open at the collar and untucked over tailored black pants. He looks so fucking handsome Mike catches his breath and forgets all about the rage he’d been in only a few seconds earlier.

“Hey,” Mike says. “What are you doing here?”

“You wanted to see me,” Harvey says, like it should be obvious. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “Of course.” He steps aside and watches Harvey walk past him into his apartment, delighted with himself for having had the forethought to clean it so thoroughly and put freshly washed sheets on the bed. “You want some cold pizza?”

Harvey shakes his head and doesn’t say a word as he wanders around, inspecting all of Mike’s possessions carefully. 

“Okay, this is weird,” Mike mutters, heeling Harvey through the apartment. “Are you gonna say anything or are you just here to silently judge me?” Harvey pokes his head into the bathroom for a quick look, then makes his way toward the bedroom area. 

“The silently judging you thing,” Harvey says, tone too deadpan to be taken seriously. He stands in front of the bed and cocks his head, Mike behind him rolling his eyes. Mike moves in close and rests his hands on Harvey’s hips, curving his head around and murmuring into his ear. 

“Do you like my place?”

Harvey smiles and says, “Yeah.” And then, “What was that about pizza?”

~

They’re naked and in bed twenty minutes later; Harvey is inside him twenty minutes after that. This time he lasts ages. Mike doesn’t say anything about it but he knows Harvey feels he has something to prove. It’s not as though that morning had been a genuine premature ejaculation situation, that’s definitely not how Mike sees it, or if he does it’s only in an absolutely positive sense, but Harvey wouldn’t want Mike thinking that was a normal occurrence for long. 

Side by side with Harvey behind him, holding him close and fucking him slow, murmuring things into Mike’s ear, the kinds of things that Mike had never imagined him saying, not even during the countless Harvey fantasies he’d had prior to them getting together, and he thought he’d imagined pretty much everything. “Been thinking about you all day...

“...my perfect boy...

“...you feel so good...

“...you make my cock so hard...

“...that’s right...

“...take it all...

“...beautiful...”

Mike’s orgasm that night is earth shattering.

~

In the morning Mike wakes up first; happy, warm and horny as hell. Carefully positioning himself between Harvey’s legs so as not to wake him, he takes Harvey’s flaccid cock in his hand and mouth, sucking and stroking it into an erection. When he hears Harvey stirring above him, he crawls up Harvey’s body and straddles him. He leans down and kisses Harvey on the mouth as Harvey reaches around him and takes hold of his cock, then maneuvers Mike so that its engorged head is pressed against Mike’s hole. Mike rotates his hips and pushes down, gasping as Harvey’s cock enters him quite easily—he’s still slick enough from the night before—and he slowly sinks down onto it until it’s fully encased.

“Naughty,” Harvey says, hips moving. “I hope you’re normally safer than this.”

“You too,” Mike says, getting a rhythm going.

“You’ll get tested today.”

“Okay, but I’m not stopping.”

Harvey’s upward thrusts go in deep. “You like having my bare cock inside you?”

He knows it’s wrong and that he shouldn’t be getting off on it, but he trusts Harvey more than he trusts anyone, and he has no doubt both of them are clean. Mostly he wants to see if he can get Harvey to come quickly again, so he begins to slam himself down on Harvey’s cock, slow and hard and steady: pulling off slow, _slamming_ back down, until it looks like Harvey is going to protest, tell him to stop, but Mike isn’t in the mood to be argued with; Harvey’s facial expression comprises a fantastic mixture of surprise, annoyance and pleasure, and just as he says, “Wait,” or tries to say it, Mike slams down one more time and Harvey grabs Mike’s thighs, holds him still with his cock in him to the hilt, and with several shaky gasps, he comes.

Harvey can’t speak for a while and when he does all he can manage is a breathless, “Are you trying to kill me?”

~

They go back to sleep for another few hours and then Mike leaves Harvey in bed and goes out for pastries and coffee. While he waits in the line at the delicatessen he becomes acutely aware of a pungent smell emanating from his body: stale sweat and jizz and, oh no, the woman behind him actually edges back a couple steps, so he winces an apology at her, but she keeps her eyes resolutely averted and doesn’t notice. Jesus Christ his fucking ass is leaking. Weirdest feeling ever. 

~

On return to the apartment he puts their pastries on plates, pours their coffees into mugs, and whistles while he works. Harvey’s in his bed, naked, satisfied, gorgeous and waiting for Mike to join him, and Mike honestly can’t think of a sweeter way to spend his Sunday morning. 

He places the tray of food and coffees in the center of the bed and strips his clothes off, slipping back under the covers and grabbing a croissant.

“You’re getting crumbs everywhere,” Harvey points out.

“It’s okay to do that at my place,” Mike replies. “Go nuts.”

Harvey rolls his eyes and sits up, but then he shrugs, leans over and takes a massive bite from the other end of the croissant that Mike is eating, causing copious flakes of pastry to sprinkle down between them onto Mike’s already thoroughly soiled sheets. 

“Hey. Get your own,” Mike says. And then, “How come you let me fuck you without a condom?”

“You forget how well I know you,” Harvey replies. “You don’t sleep around and you know the stats. I’m betting you’re a safety boy. Normally.”

“But you don’t _know_ that. You can’t know that.”

“Am I wrong?”

Mike shakes his head. “No.”

“So I’m sure you’re clean. And I take it as a compliment that you were willing to take that risk with me. By the way, I got tested last week and I’m in perfect health.”

“Really? You got tested? Why? Because of me?”

Harvey doesn’t answer but a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Wow. Thanks, Harvey. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll get tested today.”

“I will. Definitely. Although, if you’re sure I’m clean why do you want me to get tested?”

“For your peace of mind.”

Mike smiles.

“Why were you so cavalier with me?” Harvey asks.

“Call it an educated guess.”

~

“No one can know, okay? Not even Donna.”

“Seriously? But Donna knows everything about you. And everything else. She like, literally knows everything. It’s...” Mike lets his mind wander for a moment. “I bet she’s great in bed.”

“I do have some secrets, Mike. I agree it’ll be difficult to keep this from her, but we need to try. This is to protect both of us, you get that right?”

“Yes, Harvey. I get that you’d be in more trouble than me if it got back to Jessica, which it would if anyone other than Donna or Rachel found out. And I get that it would play havoc with my reputation if the other associates knew. So of course I’m on board with the plan.”

“Look, obviously Donna can be trusted but I still don’t want her, or Rachel, to know about us.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

“It’s none of their goddamn business for a start.”

“But—”

“No buts, Mike. Tell me you get it.”

“Fine. I get it. I’ll be so discreet even you won’t remember we’re seeing each other.”

“Good,” Harvey says. “To be sure things don’t get confused we’re not going to see each other outside of work during the week. Friday and Saturday nights only.”

Mike scoffs. “Oh right, okay. Do I even get a say in this?”

“No. It’s the only way this will work for me. Don’t look like that, for God’s sake. No animals were harmed in the drawing up of this verbal contract. It won’t kill you to go five nights without seeing me.”

Mike laughs despite himself. “You’re a dick.”

Harvey grins. “I’ll take that as confirmation of your tacit agreement.”

“Do what you want,” Mike says, feeling better. The fact that Harvey has given their situation so much thought to have devised such a ludicrous plan means he sees this continuing indefinitely, which is enough to keep Mike in a good mood all day after Harvey leaves him, even during the stressful ordeal of STI testing at the clinic down the road from his place. 

All is well with his junk, thank fuck, which means he has lots of unprotected sex to look forward to. 

Sweet.

~

Monday is easy. Mike decides to approach the discretion plan like it’s a game that has to be won, or, more accurately, a role that has to be played, and he thinks he performs pretty damn well that first day. It’s not particularly difficult, especially given Harvey’s flawless poker face. They don’t flirt with each other once, nor does Harvey’s resolve appear to waver toward the end of the day like Mike hopes it will.

By Tuesday Mike is bored with the game and wants some action. Anything, really—a stolen kiss in the men’s room would do the trick—but Harvey isn’t going to initiate it and there’s no way Mike is prepared to break first. So he sits on the couch in Harvey’s office, listening to Harvey’s legalese, interjecting whenever necessary with his own observations and comments, and admires Harvey’s suit.

Mike doesn’t give a fuck about fashion; or at least, he didn’t used to give a fuck about fashion, but the suit Harvey is wearing today is gorgeous: a gray two-piece pinstripe—Tom Ford no doubt—perfectly cut jacket with a ticket pocket, crisp white shirt with a cutaway collar, and a wide silver, blue and gray checkered tie; the tailoring is ridiculously flattering and Harvey looks magnificent: tall, broad and elegant; handsome, sexy and stylish. 

And beneath all that fine, expensive fabric he is naked. 

The way Harvey perches on the edge of his desk with his hand in his pocket, stretching the material over his groin to accentuate the bulge of his cock, is probably deliberate in its provocation; Mike shouldn’t be thinking about Harvey’s cock, he knows that, but it’s practically at eye level so Mike isn’t quite sure how he’s supposed to stop himself thinking about it. All those months working together Mike had never given Harvey’s penis a second thought and now he can’t get the damn thing out of his mind. It’s right there, only a few paces away, and under different circumstances—if Donna weren’t right outside; if it were after hours and no one were around to catch them—Mike would be over there in a shot, on his knees and sucking that gorgeous cock like he was starving for it.

“Stop it,” Harvey snaps, and Mike’s gaze shoots back up to Harvey’s face. 

Harvey doesn’t look remotely amused.

Mike squeezes his eyes shut for a second and clears his mind of all sexy thoughts, replaying in his head what Harvey had been talking about and refocusing on the matter at hand. “Sorry,” he says.

~

At four o’clock on Wednesday afternoon, Harvey stops by Mike’s desk for a quick, work-related chat, but when they’re done he lingers a little, brow knitted and eyes serious. And then he says, “Come with me.”

Mike leaps up and follows Harvey all the way down the corridor to the elevators. They ride up to the top floor of the building, walk down another long corridor and into a plushy executive bathroom Mike probably isn’t allowed to be in. It’s about the same size as the men’s room downstairs but in the place of urinals is a charcoal sofa and there are only two toilets, in floor to ceiling cubicles; the elegant sink top is made of mottled black marble, and the lighting is bright enough to clearly see your reflection in the mirror but soft enough to flatter. As Harvey pushes at the cubicle doors to check they’re alone, Mike hopes against hope that he’s been brought here for a quick make-out session. 

They stand facing each other next to the sink, Harvey’s expression still sober. 

“Mike,” he says. “You need to stop it with the staring.”

“What?”

“The way you’re looking at me. You keep looking at me like—people are going to start noticing, if they haven’t already. It has to stop.”

Mike reflects on the previous three days and is forced to admit that Harvey’s concerns may have some validity, and at that moment he kinda wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“I’m not angry, and you look very pretty when you blush by the way, but it can’t continue. It’s not just about what people will think, Mike; when you look at me like that it’s difficult for me not to respond. We’re here to work, okay? We can’t be distracting each other.”

Mike scratches the back of his neck, unable to meet Harvey’s eyes. “I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

“Mike, look at me.” 

Mike raises his eyes and finds Harvey smiling at him, expression warm with amusement. 

“This is so embarrassing,” Mike says. “I can’t have been that obvious.”

“Oh really? The way you kept fucking me with your eyes every time you saw me? The only way you could have been more obvious is if you had a giant flashing neon sign on your head saying ‘I’m banging Harvey Specter’.”

Mike bursts out laughing. “Shit, Harvey, sorry.”

Harvey grins. “You’re forgiven. Just cut it out okay?”

“Okay.” He gives Harvey a three-fingered salute. “Scout’s honor.” They stand there for a while smiling at each other until the temptation to kiss Harvey becomes so strong Mike takes a step closer and says, “Can we go somewhere?”

Harvey frowns but doesn’t move away. “Mike.”

“Sorry, sorry, I know, I just—” he gazes at Harvey’s mouth until his body flushes with heat and his eyelids feel heavy. “Please, Harvey.”

“That’s not what we agreed.”

“I know. Just this once.” And then, for good measure, “Please.”

It does the trick; Harvey grips Mike’s jaw in his hand and kisses him quick and wet on the mouth. “Fine. Meet me at my place in an hour.”

“No, no,” Mike says. “Now. Can we go somewhere right now?”

Harvey closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose. 

“Where do you propose we go?”

As if by its own accord Mike’s head turns slowly toward the toilet cubicles.

“You must be joking,” Harvey says. 

“Harvey, look.” He glances downwards and Harvey follows his gaze.

“Jesus,” Harvey says. He meets Mike’s eyes again and shakes his head. “I’m not fucking you in here, Mike. Get that idea out of your head right now.” 

Mike widens his eyes in alarm. “I can’t go out there like this. I need to take care of this right now, with or without you.”

Harvey doesn’t answer straight away, he’s clearly thinking, or trying to think of a solution to their problem, but it’s pointless because Mike’s plan is the only plan worth considering. He reaches out and takes Harvey’s hand in his. 

“Come on,” he says, and much to his delight, Harvey sighs and follows him into the cubicle. 

Although it’s more ‘spacious room’ than ‘cubicle’, with its own sink, shelf and bidet, alongside the toilet. 

Perfect.

Locked away from the rest of the world they take the opportunity to make out for a stupidly long time, all tongue and open mouths and grabby hands, Mike so desperate for physical contact he can’t bring himself to stop kissing Harvey long enough to get his pants open, so Harvey eventually has to push him away. “Come on,” Harvey whispers, shoving him against the wall. “Let me see how much you want me.” 

Nimble fingers make fast work of Mike’s belt buckle and fly, while Mike lends a hand by pushing his briefs and pants down over his ass. “Oh yeah,” Mike breathes out as Harvey takes hold of his erection. 

“So lovely,” Harvey murmurs, gazing down at Mike’s cock in his fist, stroking him firm and steady. And there he is: the sexually affectionate Weekend Harvey that Mike can’t get enough of. 

It probably should have been a quickie, but Harvey seems in no hurry, and he’s as talkative as ever. “Just wait till I get you in my bed this Friday. Gonna fuck you so hard. I’d fuck you right now if I had some lube on me. You’d like that wouldn’t you.”

“God yeah,” Mike says with a grin. “I think about it all the time.”

“No kidding.”

“Are you telling me you don’t?”

“I think about it but I don’t advertise it. You need to learn from me.”

“Do I? Except...”

“What?”

“I got what I wanted.”

Harvey’s eyes darken but his fist keeps moving. “You wanted to fuck with me? With my job? You wanted to deliberately disobey me?”

Mike’s head falls back, thumping against the wall behind him, and he whispers, “Not deliberate. Wasn’t deliberate.”

“So you just wanted to get laid.”

Mike looks back at him. “Pretty much.”

Harvey wraps his free hand around Mike’s throat and squeezes, nearly but not quite cutting off Mike’s air supply. “Don’t think your insubordination is going to go unpunished,” he says, voice a low, threatening rumble. Without warning Mike comes, his body betraying him in ways and for reasons he doesn’t fully understand (although one theory springs immediately to mind), but even surprise orgasms feel fucking wonderful so he isn’t complaining. It surprises Harvey too: when he realizes what’s happening he points Mike’s cock to one side and hops to the other, narrowly avoiding being splattered.

Harvey laughs. “Interesting,” he says, as Mike slumps against the wall. 

Grabbing a handful of tissue from the dispenser Harvey gets himself off a few seconds later, coming into the tissue with a groan. 

~

At four thirty on Friday afternoon Mike wanders down the hall and into Harvey’s office—Donna’s nowhere to be seen—a smile on his face and a swing in his step. He walks around Harvey’s desk until they’re side by side and facing each other, and perches against it. 

“Are you impressed with how good I’ve been this week?”

Harvey raises an eyebrow. “Technically you’ve only been good the past two days.”

“Whatever. We should celebrate.”

“What we should do is talk about it later.”

“I can’t wait. What are we doing tonight?”

“What do you want to do?”

Mike tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling. “Uhhhhh…how about…” He looks back at Harvey. “Dinner. And a movie.”

Harvey grimaces. “You wanna go on a date.”

“Yep.” Mike slides across the desk until their legs are touching. “If you don’t take me out in public soon...let’s just say a guy could get a complex. Somewhere fancy. I want at least three courses and the finest wines available to humanity.”

The wary expression on Harvey’s face transforms momentarily into something closer to impressed. “ _Withnail and I_ ,” he says. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Time to go back to work, Mike.” Harvey looks pointedly at the door.

“Not until you say yes to Date Night.”

“You think you’re funny,” Harvey says. “But you’ll notice I’m not laughing.”

“Tough crowd,” Mike says, pressing his leg against Harvey’s. “That’s cool if you’re not into the jokes. I have other talents.”

The twitch of Harvey’s lip warms the cockles of Mike’s heart. “Move away from me,” Harvey says. “Now.”

With a small hum of pleasure, Mike rolls his hips. “Are you not enjoying it?”

“Meet me in here at seven o’clock,” Harvey says in a low voice. “We’ll go to dinner.”

Mike gasps. “Daddy, are you taking me out to play? Finally?”

“Jesus Christ.” Harvey puts his head in his hand. “Don’t ever call me Daddy again.”

Mike gives him a funny look. “Really?” He shakes his head a little, searching Harvey’s face for the hidden truth he knows is lurking somewhere beneath that suave demeanor. “You never want me to call you Daddy again? That doesn’t sound real.”

Harvey scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, his eyes darkening, and he’s pissed now. “Get out, Mike.”

“Okay.” Mike stands up and walks towards the door. “Sorry,” he says, turning back towards Harvey before opening it. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

Harvey widens his eyes at him, unsmiling. “Try.”

~

When they meet at seven in Harvey’s office, Mike reclines on the chair next to Harvey’s desk and closes his eyes. Harvey asks Mike where he’d like to go for dinner, but before Mike can answer he rattles off a list of good restaurants near his condo and then declares himself in the mood for sushi.

Mike grimaces but doesn’t open his eyes. “I’m not into it.”

“You don’t like sushi,” Harvey says in an unimpressed monotone.

“I was actually thinking,” Mike says, head flopping to the side and giving Harvey a slow, indecent once-over. “What about we go back to your place and have sex. And then order in some food that actually tastes good and watch a movie.”

Harvey visibly perks up, but says, “I thought you wanted to be taken out.”

“Sure, some day. But tonight I’d rather be alone with you.”

“Great.” Harvey grabs his jacket and is out the door of his office before Mike has even stood up. 

~

This is the eighth time they’ve slept together. When Mike mentions this Harvey counters with a quick and predictable retort. “You’re keeping count?”

Mike spreads his hands and gives Harvey his best ‘are you kidding me’ glare. “I can’t help it.”

The light bulb flickers on behind Harvey’s eyes as he looks into the distance, with an understanding “Ohhh,” a slow nod, and an unapologetic smile that turns into a lascivious grin when he focuses his attention back on Mike. He pulls off his tie and drops it to the floor, walking backwards toward the bed and sitting on it with his legs spread, leaning back and propping himself up with his hands. “Get over here.”

Mike whips off his t-shirt, kicks off his shoes and is wearing only boxer shorts by the time he reaches the bed and straddles Harvey’s lap.

~

Mike can’t even imagine this being over, and this is just the start, he can feel it in his gut. 

This matters more than anything else. Harvey is the most important thing in Mike’s life, has been since they met, in many ways, but now in the most important way.

Because Mike understands that real love is rare, desire this intense comes along once or twice a lifetime, if you’re lucky, and when it does come along it trumps everything else. He’s seen the Harvey that lurks behind the job. The secret Harvey. The Harvey that only a lover gets to meet. The Harvey who allows Mike to see his face contorted in ecstasy; hear the way his voice sounds when he’s close to orgasm; the moans, the groans, the sighs, the smells; the affection, the sweetness, the passion.

Harvey’s amazing in bed and it’s got nothing to do with him being skilled with his hands and mouth (although he is certainly that); it comes down to the abandon with which he approaches sex. When he’s in the zone, naked and damp, eyes glazed with lust, he’s not only focused on the giving and receiving of pleasure–and on Mike, as though Mike is the most desirable, extraordinary person Harvey’s ever known–he’s lost in the bliss of it. The pleasure, the connection, that’s all that matters, and it was so unexpected to discover that Harvey could be like that, but also delightful and exactly right. 

In the months before they got together, when Mike was only wondering what it might be like to have sex with him, he’d pegged Harvey for a good lover, of course he had. There was no doubt in his mind that Harvey would be good in bed, but Mike had expected him to be more detached. Mike likes to think he is more detached with other people. Because it’s got to be different for Harvey with Mike, right? It’s different for Mike. Not the guy thing either; nor the illicit thing. 

The feelings thing. 

Mike had strong feelings for all his girlfriends, and he still loves Jenny even though they haven’t spoken in three months, have only spoken on the phone once since they broke up six months ago. Problem was, by the time they got together he wasn’t _in_ love with her anymore—he was more interested in Rachel—and that’s why it had to end. And then he and Rachel turned out to be a total disaster too. They lasted a month. The sex had been pretty good but their new-found intimacy led to an unfortunate discovery: their personalities clashed. They argued more than they talked, and they were better at hurting each other than loving each other. Things ended acrimoniously. They’re cool now but it took weeks before Rachel could even bear to be in the same room as Mike, and the remains of their friendship is threaded through with bitterness.

The only consistently positive thing in his life throughout all of it was Harvey.

He and Harvey care about each other, they know each other, they trust each other, and they want each other, in a way that Mike hasn’t experienced before, and that’s the key to the gloriousness of the sex they have. When they’re together like this Mike finds it almost easy to switch his brain off; but when his busy mind drifts from or intrudes on their connection Harvey senses it, and he pulls Mike back into the moment, with a kiss, or an impressive display of dexterity, or a dirty comment, or a romantic one. Mike in his lap, their arms wrapped around each other, Harvey fucking up into him, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.” He worries the skin on Mike’s neck with his teeth. “You’re perfect.” Mike’s addicted to the sounds Harvey makes and the way he looks in the throes of carnal pleasure. Drooping eyelids, hypnotic glint in blown pupils, eyes fixed on Mike’s mouth, breathing harsh and uneven, and God, to see him one way at work, the way Mike knows him best, and then to get him like this, at his most open, gazing at Mike like he wants to devour him… 

Only two weeks (and seventeen months) in and it’s by far the most profound relationship Mike’s ever had.

~

Times nine to thirteen happen over the course of that weekend, all remarkable, none involving any kind of punishment. Harvey’s threat lingers in the back of Mike’s mind while they’re together, and in the week following, in which he settles into the routine of pretending not to be in a relationship with Harvey on weekdays, he thinks about it often.

He reads, too. He’s so busy working, reading and thinking that fives days without Non-Work Harvey slip by relatively quickly and easily. He doesn’t leave the office til at least nine every evening, catching up on shit he’s behind on so his weekend is free for Harvey. Harvey apparently never works weekends but is such a jerk he still expects Mike to have put in the overtime, so there’s no way he can take another weekend off unless he gets on top of everything. This means not thinking about Harvey, it means not letting the general giddiness he’s feeling at the moment interfere with his concentration during the day, and it means not messing with Harvey like he secretly wants to. Because Harvey’s right: they need to not be in a relationship during the week so Mike can actually perform well enough to not get fired, and so they can enjoy being in a relationship on the weekend. 

When he gets home from work he gets online and researches BDSM. He can’t forget that orgasm. This guy just keeps on surprising him: he’d liked being on the receiving end of Harvey’s wrath far more than he would have expected. Because seriously, what the fuck? Harvey was choking him and _threatening_ him, for fuck’s sake, and Mike had just...come. Just like that, like he was a fucking teenage virgin having his cock touched by someone other than himself for the first time. 

His kinkiest girlfriend had been Cara, who he'd dated for six months when he was twenty-one. One night he tied her up, blindfolded her and dripped hot candle wax onto her breasts and belly before he fucked her. Another night he filmed her sucking his cock with his cell phone. She enjoyed rimming him, but only after they’d had a bath together. They both loved dirty talk and they role-played on a number of occasions, his favorite being the time she dressed up as a school girl, sassed him and then refused to apologize, and so he put her over his knee and spanked her until she had tears in her eyes and was begging him to stop. When he put his dick in her and started fucking her she came so hard she _squirted_. Before Harvey that had been the best sexual experience of his life. 

Jenny and he didn’t actually have all that much sex before things imploded—he was too busy with work—but on one occasion she’d let Mike tie her up before he fucked her. Rachel wasn’t remotely submissive, but while she was assertive she wasn’t dominant either. Mike had never been with anyone who’d showed an interest in being dominant so it had never crossed his mind that it might be something he’d enjoy. 

Clearly it might be something he’d enjoy. 

But he wants it to be spontaneous, at least the first time, because that was the hottest thing about the bathroom session—he’d surprised Harvey, he’d pissed him off, and Harvey had chosen to introduce that anger into the sex they were having, which meant that anger aroused him, that threatening Mike aroused him, and that punishing Mike was something he wanted to do. _Wanted_ to do. He’d even laughed afterwards and said “interesting” like he was _pleased_ that Mike had responded the way he had; like that was the best surprise of all. 

The other thing Mike thinks about is fucking Harvey. He doesn’t know if Harvey’s a switch, but Mike sure as hell is, because he wants to do it and if Harvey enjoys bottoming even half as much as Mike does, Harvey should want it as well. They haven’t spoken about it yet, but Mike made his intentions known when he blew Harvey mid afternoon on Sunday (their twelfth fuck), on return to the condo after a long and enjoyable brunch. 

Mike had pushed Harvey into a sprawl onto the black leather couch and attacked his fly, getting him half naked, no pants and no underwear (although he let him keep his socks on) before settling in between his legs, knees on the floor, and Harvey’s cock in his mouth. Ten minutes into the blowjob Mike wet two of his fingers as thoroughly as possible and slid them down Harvey’s crack, slowly working one of them into Harvey’s very tight asshole all the way up to the second knuckle. Harvey didn’t stop him. And then Mike pulled off and out, stood up and told Harvey to wait there while he jogged away to the bedroom to fetch the lube.

When he returned he found Harvey exactly as he’d left him: leaning back on the couch in just his socks and rucked up t-shirt, legs spread, one foot flat on the seat, the other flat on the floor, cock, stiff and shiny with Mike’s saliva, curving up against his belly. Mike resumed his position, slowly inserted one, then two, newly slicked fingers into Harvey’s ass and started moving them in and out, watching Harvey’s face as he did it. Harvey thrust his hips in time with Mike’s hand, the expression on his face almost pained in its pleasure. “Suck me,” he whispered. “Keep doing what you’re doing and suck me.” He threw his head back, breathing loud and shaky, as Mike took him back into his mouth. And when Mike sucked his cock like he couldn’t get enough of it, Harvey whispered Mike’s name into the charged air of the room, and it turned Mike on so much he pulled off, pressed his lips to Harvey’s belly and, resting his chin on Harvey’s hot skin, he looked up into Harvey’s eyes. “Say my name again,” he said, fingers in Harvey to the hilt. 

“Mike,” Harvey answered, straight away, voice strained and breathless. 

Mike rewarded Harvey by lowering his mouth onto Harvey’s cock, sucking it as hard as he could and pulling off again. “Call me baby,” he murmured.

“You’re doing so well, baby boy.” That was new. “Your mouth is perfect.”

“What about my fingers?”

“They feel good.”

“You feel good.”

He went back to blowing Harvey and drew it out until he got impatient to make Harvey come, and then, after he’d made up his mind about doing just that, it only took him ten seconds. 

Yet again Harvey seemed surprised by his orgasm. He still hadn’t figured out that Mike’s got his number. 

~

They had sex one more time before Mike left Harvey’s place on Sunday night at ten o’clock: a quick fuck against the window next to the glass elevator. It was Mike’s way of saying goodbye, really. Harvey tried to break their kiss and push Mike into the elevator, but Mike refused to stop, pushing back twice as hard until Harvey was pressed up against the glass window, panting and moaning. They jerked each other off and Harvey came first, all over Mike’s hand.

He went home triumphant.

Because if there’s one thing Mike has learned these past thirteen sexual experiences with Harvey, it’s how to get the guy off. Most of it has been beginner’s luck, to be fair, but all that research he did before getting into this really paid off—and it’s simply pure good fortune that the vast majority of the things he tries work wonders on Harvey. Their sexual compatibility is blowing Mike’s mind, and even though every new great thing he learns about Harvey has a tendency to surprise him, it still somehow always feels inevitable, because he’s Harvey and Harvey is. Amazing.

Mike has two goals in life right now: to put his dick into Harvey’s ass and to be spontaneously punished by Harvey. The former is easy, he’s already planted the seed, all he needs to do now is ask for it, and talk his way around any resistance if necessary. Fact is, Harvey’s probably tried it before, with that TA piece of shit no doubt, but even if he wasn’t into it then that doesn’t mean he won’t be into it with Mike. He certainly enjoyed being finger fucked, so Mike’s pretty confident this idea won’t take a lot of persuasion.

The punishment thing though... Mike can’t ask to be punished because it wouldn’t be authentic and that would defeat the entire purpose. Harvey has to be angry with him about something. Mike tries his best not to concoct a plan because he genuinely has no desire to anger Harvey or to risk upsetting the equilibrium. Because everything is going well and, all evidence to the contrary, Mike actually does prefer his life to run smoothly. They’re kicking ass at work, they’re kicking ass in the bedroom, they’re even getting brunch together. Outside. In public. Hell, he’s so proud of Harvey it’s embarrassing. It took a lot of willpower not to molest him in the diner, just because people were there, people neither of them knew or would ever see again, and Mike wanted every single one of them to know that Harvey belonged to him. 

Life is fucking awesome at the moment.

He doesn’t want to ruin any of that, and he’s also well aware by now how wrong it is to get a scene going without Harvey’s consent, but God.

It’d be so hot.

Thing is, he’s really come around to Harvey’s way of thinking on the weekday hiatus and on keeping things compartmentalized, because work is work and it's important to both of them. Or if he isn’t entirely on board with it all the time he does genuinely respect Harvey’s reasons for insisting on the arrangement.

Still, Mike’s only human and sometimes things get muddled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the endnotes for (spoilery) warnings.

They make it through one whole week without incident, another whole weekend without punishment, and Mike is starting to get comfortable. 

He doesn’t flirt with Harvey at work any more, because it’s risky and would be super embarrassing for Mike if anyone else noticed, not to mention potentially damaging for Harvey. But lawyers still argue with each other, about work things, and Harvey still gets pissed at Mike when he fucks up, and, turns out, he still berates Mike like he’s a fucking idiot pain in his ass if he’s pissed enough, which Mike still reacts to with a degree of authentic rage. This feels like as good a time as any to push Harvey’s buttons.

“You know what?” he says, standing up. “I don’t need this.”

“What did you say?”

“You were there too. So was Louis. Why the fuck am I getting all the blame?”

“Because you’re a second year associate and you sit down and damn well listen to me when I tell you all the many ways in which you need to do better next time. Got it?”

Mike grits his teeth and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m out of here. This is bullshit.” He walks towards the door but as he goes to open it, Harvey barks, “Get back here.”

Mike pauses, his hand on the door.

“Don’t take another fucking step.”

Mike pushes open the door and walks out, snapping at Donna as he passes her desk, “I’m going home.”

In his periphery he catches Donna shaking her head at him but he keeps on walking, down the hall, down two flights of stairs, down another hall until he reaches his desk, where he grabs his jacket and briefcase before leaving the building and catching a cab home. At three o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon.

Harvey’s only about five minutes behind him, and when he arrives, making his presence known by thumping Mike’s front door with such force it shakes on its hinges, Mike’s heart starts to race.

He opens the door and Harvey’s palm is flat on his chest in an instant, causing him to stumble into a quick backwards walk, Harvey using his free hand to slam the door behind him.

“You think because we’re fucking you can walk out on your job in the middle of the day?” Harvey says, eyes bright with anger. He shoves Mike against the wall and takes a step back, glare unwavering. Mike is breathing so loud he can barely hear himself think. “You trying to get a rise out of me?”

Mike can’t speak. He’s so aroused he thinks he’ll come if Harvey so much as grazes his dick.

“You can’t do this, Mike.” Harvey is breathing hard, through clenched teeth. He’s not angry about Mike walking out—not entirely, anyway—he’s angry that Mike manipulated him, and rightly so. Harvey means what he says, Mike even agrees with him, but then, “Go to the bedroom and take your clothes off.”

Mike gulps, tries to say _okay_ but the word gets caught in his throat. He coughs. Manages to get out, “What are you gonna do to me?”

Harvey’s smile is cold and unsettling. “Oh no. You wanna play this game without rules? You don’t get a goddamn say any more. You made this happen, Mike.” He’s practically sneering. “Well played, by the way.”

Mike turns and walks towards the bed, starts undressing, slow and methodical—hangs his jacket, tie and pants in his closet, drops his shirt, undershirt, boxers and socks into the laundry basket—nervous about what’s going to happen because he has no idea what it is and it could be painful. It’s definitely going to be painful. Jesus Christ, is that really what he wants? His cock seems to think so, but all his head is telling him right now is that pain hurts. Pain is something to fear. He’s scared about what Harvey is going to do to him and totally fucking aroused all at the same time. What the hell?

“You’re gonna spank me, aren’t you,” Mike says.

Harvey is standing where Mike left him, stone-cold serious, watching Mike’s every move. His eyes widen slightly in affirmation. “Something like that.”

“I’m kinda scared.”

Harvey walks towards him, grabs his face by the jaw, grip like iron. “You should be,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna hurt. But I want you to be brave. Can you be brave for me?” Mike feels so scared he nearly bursts into tears. “Hey.” Harvey leans in and kisses him gently on the lips. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Mike practically collapses into Harvey’s arms, clinging to him like his life depends on it. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

Harvey cradles him in his arms and kisses him on the cheek, and then, “Lie face down on the bed with your legs over the edge and don’t move another fucking muscle or say another fucking word until I say you can.”

There’s no choice but to obey. Harvey has an authoritative way about him that’s impossible to resist and Mike doesn’t want to resist it now, never has really, probably never will; Mike’s never thought too hard about how easy he’s always found it to do as Harvey says but it’s probably accurate to say that he likes following Harvey’s orders just as much as he likes bending the rules to impress him.

The position he’s been ordered into isn’t a natural one – the bed supports most of his weight but in order to balance he has to set his toes on the floor, which forces his ass into the air. It’s a no brainer where Harvey plans to dole out his punishment, although Mike had expected to be put over his knee, so this turn of events only ratchets up his anxiety, and knowing it’s entirely his own fault that he’s in this situation doesn’t make a blind bit of difference. Given that no negotiations have taken place—no discussion whatsoever about what happens if Mike needs Harvey to stop, no safe word, and no prior experience on Mike’s part to inform him how much he can take or whether this is even going to do anything for him other than hurt like a motherfucker—this definitely seems like a bad idea. The ominous words that come out of Harvey’s mouth next do nothing to dispel Mike’s reservations.

“You know, I don’t usually wear a belt.” Mike can hear what sounds an awful lot like a belt being unbuckled behind him. “Most of my suits are tailored to fit so well they don’t require one.” The swish of a belt being pulled from the loops of his pants. “But as luck—or fate, maybe—would have it, this particular suit comes with its very own belt. It’s the first time I’ve worn it.”

Mike swivels his head around to see what Harvey’s doing and finds him slowly wrapping the belt in a circle around his palm, head tilted and a smile on his face that can only be described as pure evil.

“Jesus Christ,” Mike says in a small voice. “I’m not so sure about this.”

Harvey chuckles. “And yet you could cut glass with your dick right now.”

Mike shakes his head rapidly. “Don’t pay attention to that. My dick doesn’t speak for me.”

“See now you’re just lying to my face. That’s gonna cost you.”

Sweat slides down Mike forehead, dripping into his eyes. He blinks a few times. “Shouldn’t we have like a…safe word or something?”

Harvey gives Mike a pitying look. “This isn’t a game, Mike. This is punishment. I’ll stop when I’ve decided you’ve learned your lesson. And I’m pretty certain I told you not to move a muscle or say another fucking word.”

Mike gulps, turns away and drops his chin to his chest. Every muscle in his body tense, every emotion he’s feeling warped through with fear and lust. He brought this on himself. He needs to take it; he needs to be brave. It’ll be over before he knows it.

Gentle fingers caress his ass, accompanied by a hum of appreciation. And then Harvey lays the belt down on the bed next to Mike, visible out of the corner of Mike’s eye; he doesn’t even need to move his head to see it. Why is Harvey taking so long to get on with it? Goddamn him, this is all part of the punishment. What is he doing? Is he rolling up his sleeves? That fucking prick is dragging it out deliberately, to make Mike more scared. It’s working too. He’s fucking terrified, and he’s whimpering a little bit, like a fucking child, he can’t help it, and the temptation to hump the bed to relieve some of the pressure in his aching cock is so strong he honestly doesn’t think he’ll be able to resist it for much longer. Oh Jesus, Harvey’s picking up the belt again, dragging his fingertips over Mike’s buttocks, and then…still. He’s not moving.

Mike tenses.

THWACK. 

The first strike shocks a shout out of him. It stings far more than he was expecting and the searing pain doesn’t even have a chance to dissipate before he’s whipped again. 

THWACK. 

Mike doesn’t attempt to hold in his sobs, but Harvey doesn’t relent.

THWACK.

Harvey is right behind him, standing so close the fine wool of his pants brushes against the backs of Mike’s legs in an agonizing tickle. “That was for the staring.”

“I stopped doing that!” Mike chokes out. “I stopped.” He’s actually crying a little.

“Yes you did, and I’m proud of you. But I know you remember being warned that you’d be punished for that.”

It’s true. Harvey had promised he’d be punished and Harvey knows he remembers. He is so screwed.

THWACK.

“Oh God, please,” Mike whimpers.

THWACK.

The pain is shockingly intense, his ass feels like its on fire, and he knows there’s another one coming because apparently Harvey doles out punishment in threes.

THWACK.

Mike begs Harvey to stop in a ragged whisper but he holds on, he doesn’t try to get away. He can be brave.

“That was for manipulating me into doing this instead of just asking me to.”

“It wouldn’t have been the same,” Mike tells him, eyes closed, eyelashes wet with tears. “But I am sorry. I’m so sorry. I deserved this. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“We’re not done.”

“Why? I haven’t done anything else wrong.”

“Oh really? You didn’t walk out of work at three o’clock in the afternoon today?”

“That was part of the manipulating you into punishing me plan. Which I’ve already been whipped for three times.”

“I see it as a separate offense. Manipulating me into doing what you want is one thing; bringing our sex life into the office and costing the firm money by forcing me to leave work in the middle of the day? That’s an entirely different crime.”

Mike opens his eyes and finds himself relaxing. He can do this. Three more blows and then Harvey will take care of him. He can do this. He feels lightheaded...but safe.

THWACK.

THWACK.

THWACK.

~

Harvey’s cradling him in his arms, pulling him up onto the bed, stroking his skin and kissing him on the mouth, so tender and gentle Mike melts into it, clinging to Harvey, humping his leg, the pleasure at having gotten through to the other side so intense he comes all over Harvey’s pants.

And Harvey doesn’t even mind, he’s pushing them down and jacking off, spilling onto Mike’s stomach a few moments later. Once Harvey’s caught his breath he strips completely, gets into bed and pulls the covers over both of them. He pulls Mike close and wraps him in his arms. “You okay?’’

“Yeah,” Mike mutters into Harvey’s neck. “Sore but sated.”

Harvey chuckles. “We’ll have a proper conversation about all of this on Friday.”

“Okay.” Mike is very much on that page. The thought of having that conversation right now is not appealing. “Do we have to go back to work?”

“Yes,” Harvey says. “If you don’t go back Donna will start prying.”

“What did you tell her when you left?”

“That I was going to fire you.”

Mike cracks up. “What did she say?”

“She told me not to be a drama queen and to go easy on you.”

“Sweet. You can tell her you found me, beat the shit out of me and then gave me the rest of the day off.”

“And what exactly would you do with your afternoon off?”

“Avoid sitting down or lying on my back.”

“Poor baby.” Harvey kisses him.

“So I don’t have to go back?”

“No, you still have to go back. On your own, though, because you’ve ruined my suit and if I turn up wearing another one Donna will notice. But I’ll let you rest for another ten minutes.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

~

Mission accomplished, at any rate. Mike gets through the rest of the day, and week, without anyone questioning or apparently even noticing the way he winces every time he sits down, and overall he feels pretty good about what happened. It’s not something he wants to happen again any time soon but there’s no denying he enjoys his Harvey dominant, and when they talk about it he’ll be sure to mention that. He’s still too tender to be in the mood for topping this weekend, so he’s gonna shelve that particular plan for a weekend when he’s feeling less like all he wants in the world is for Harvey to cuddle him to death.

Tonight he wants the comfort and security of Harvey’s place, nakedness, perhaps a sponge bath, arms around him, kissing, sleep. And maybe some handjobs and oral.

It’s ridiculous really, how soft he’s being, and on the ride up Harvey’s glass elevator he worries that maybe Harvey will want to do something else, will be in a different mood, have a different mind-set, will maybe want to finally take him out on that date he owes Mike or some other kind of nightmare scenario. But on arrival he breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of Harvey, sprawled on his couch in his (stupidly expensive and flattering) house clothes, a gorgeous, warm smile on his face. Mike pulls off his tie and kicks off his shoes and crawls into Harvey’s arms.

“Hey baby,” Harvey murmurs, drawing him against his body. “You look exhausted.”

Mike buries his face into Harvey’s throat and breathes in the familiar, comforting smell of his skin mingled with the faded tang of his cologne. Mike clings to him and replies, “I’m just glad I’m here.”

“What do you wanna do tonight? Go out?”

“No, God no. Are you crazy?”

Harvey chuckles. “Tell me. We can do anything you want.”

Mike looks up at him with a suspicious frown. “Really? Anything?”

He gets a kiss on the lips and a fond, indulgent smile, Harvey’s eyes crinkling at the corners in that way Mike finds almost unbearably attractive. “Anything.”

It looks like Harvey’s not up for talking about Wednesday tonight after all, and seems to be as into the idea of taking care of Mike as Mike is, so he tells Harvey exactly what he wants, and that’s exactly what he gets. 

~

At eight thirty on Saturday morning Mike wakes up to the smell of good coffee, and an empty bed. He notices a breakfast tray sitting on Harvey’s side of the bed and when he sits up he discovers Harvey has made him breakfast. He must have just delivered it because the coffee is still hot, and with it there’s freshly squeezed OJ, a bagel smothered in cream cheese with a sprinkling of salt and black pepper just the way Mike likes it, and a note written in Harvey’s elegant scrawl.

_Take your time getting ready. Back soon._

He’s already finished his bagel and downed half his coffee by the time his brain is functioning enough to interpret the meaning of Harvey’s message.

Get ready. Harvey wants him to get ready. Harvey has plans for him. Presumably plans that require him to get up, washed and dressed. That’s cool, he supposes, although if Harvey thinks Mike is shaving today he’s got another thing coming. And then he notices a neatly folded pile of clothes sitting at the foot of the bed. On closer inspection he discovers they belong to him: jeans and a t-shirt he left here last week, except they’re now clean. There’s even a brand new set of underwear—white Calvin Klein boxer briefs—and socks, and a sassy new pair of casual gray and white Polos, in Mike’s size, on the floor by the bed.

When Harvey strolls back in half an hour later Mike is sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, showered, dressed and unshaven, on his second cup of coffee, and dying of curiosity.

“Where you been?” he asks.

Harvey grins and kisses him on the lips in greeting. “I love that color on you,” he says, referring to Mike’s crimson t-shirt. “Mmm.” He kisses Mike again, longer and deeper this time.

“Thanks,” Mike replies, winding his arms around Harvey’s neck as he slips off his stool so he can get closer. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Harvey’s wearing a teal, open-collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, over dark blue jeans that cling to his long legs in all the right places; immaculate and sexy as ever. “Wait, let me amend that statement: you look fucking gorgeous.”

He gets a pleased laugh for that. “We’re going for a drive,” Harvey tells him. “You ready?”

Mike nods. “Yeah. Let me just go brush my teeth.” He extracts himself from Harvey’s embrace and heads out of the kitchen, turning as he reaches the door. “Oh, and thanks for the shoes and the socks and the undies and for washing my clothes.”

Harvey waves him away. “Hurry up.”

~

Mike nearly keels over when he finds out exactly what Harvey meant by ‘going for a drive’. It’s a mint green Aston Martin convertible; Harvey’s car club must have lent it to him, and Harvey looks so fucking pleased with himself as he slides into the driver’s side that Mike cracks up.

“Oh man,” he says, opening the passenger door. “You are the best boyfriend ever.” He freezes and squints, taking a moment to process the words that just came out of his mouth, and that’s when he notices the ring cushion lying on his seat.

“You bet your ass I am,” Harvey says, a shit-eating grin on his face that makes Mike roll his eyes.

Mike picks up the cushion and smacks Harvey on the arm with it before gingerly settling into his seat. It’s true his butt is still pretty sore but he can’t bring himself to use a cushion like that in a car like this so he tosses it into the back. “Thanks but I’m fine,” he tells Harvey with a glare.

Harvey just laughs, one of his near-silent under-the-breath laughs that Mike finds irresistible, and revs the engine a few times before pulling out of his parking space and cruising out of the garage and into the street. He’s an excellent—if way too fast—driver, of course, but he doesn’t show Mike what the car can really do until they get onto the freeway, and then, with the unseasonably warm late October wind in Mike’s hair, it’s impossible not to feel happy, and lucky, and loved.

A couple hours later Harvey slows to a more residential speed as they enter the village of Southampton, and Mike turns to him with a frown. “If you’re about to tell me you have a summer home here I am going to blow you right now.”

Harvey looks over at him with a regretful pout. “Sadly, no. But my brother has a place here; is that worth a blowjob?”

Mike’s eyes widen. “Am I going to meet your brother?” This is huge. This is...Mike hasn’t even taken Harvey to meet Grammy yet and she lives in Brooklyn. Does this mean Harvey’s told his family about him? He feels short of breath.

“Relax. My brother isn’t here; he’s in Europe at the moment with his wife. But I have a set of keys and I’m allowed to use the place any time I like.”

Mike swallows his disappointment and his breathing evens out. “Are you guys close?”

“Yep,” Harvey says. “I don’t see him as much as I’d like to.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a neurosurgeon and his wife Helen’s an oncologist; in Boston.”

“Wow. Impressive family.”

Harvey shrugs. “My parents aren’t well off. They didn’t expect much from us growing up to be honest, but I wanted more from life than they had. Danny wanted more too.”

“They must be proud of you.”

“Yeah. Him more than me.” Harvey’s smile is genuine, and Mike can tell Harvey’s as proud of Danny as his parents are. It probably should have occurred to Mike before now that he and Harvey hardly know anything about each other, but it’s a realization that fills him with warm anticipation.

Much to Mike’s delight Harvey is entirely forthcoming. It’s almost as if he hasn’t talked about himself to anyone who cares for years, which could well be true; as far as Mike can tell Harvey’s many friends are all business associates, with whom he’d never in a million years be this open with, and Mike suspects his recent relationships lacked intimacy. With minimal prodding, Harvey continues talking about growing up poor in upstate New York, well after they arrive at Danny’s beautiful oceanfront house. They take a walk on the beach for a few hours, grabbing burgers and cokes for lunch from a food cart and sitting on the sand facing the sea while they eat; on their return they crack open a couple of Buds and settle into one of the sofas in the stylish, airy conservatory. They never stop talking: swapping stories about their childhoods, some good, some difficult, some silly; and in the safety of Harvey’s brother’s summer home, Mike tells him about the deaths of his parents, Harvey listening to his sad story with compassionate focus, Mike’s hand held tight in his own.

~

“You hungry?” Harvey asks him at twenty to seven, in response to Mike’s rumbling stomach. They’ve been talking non-stop—but for the occasional bathroom or beer-fetching break—for the entire afternoon.

Mike nods. “Starving. What’s the plan?”

“My favorite restaurant in the world is a fifteen minute walk from here.” He stands up. “Let’s go.”

~

It’s not at all what Mike was expecting. The place is on the small side with a long bar on one side of the room, diners on the other; it’s packed to the gills and loud with chatter, laughter and Bob Marley. Delectable food-smells waft through the air from the kitchen, and the decor is charming: a mishmash of wooden tables and chairs, all different sizes, shapes and styles; weird and wonderful clocks haphazardly dotting the walls, each telling a different (and incorrect) time, along with cool mirrors, unusual art, and black and white photographs of patrons having the time of their life; chandeliers and lampshades in a range of intense colors and funky styles hang from the ceiling. Whoever decorated this place just stuck in whatever they liked with no consideration for uniformity, and yet somehow it works, because each thing on its own is awesome.

The insanely cute girl who greets them is wearing skin-tight jeans and a black t-shirt about three sizes too small for her that make her small, perky breasts look magnificent. Mike loves her unconditionally. She tells them there’s a thirty minute wait for a table and points them towards the bar.

“I’ll come get you when your table’s ready,” she promises, beaming at them both.

They thank her, grinning like idiots because she’s so pretty, and head to the bar.

There are no seats available but they manage to find a gap in the bar to lean against and Harvey orders them each a glass of white wine. Mike doesn’t normally drink white wine but the New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc Harvey chose is delicious so he makes a mental note to rectify that oversight in future. He shoves a handful of complimentary cashews into his gob and surveys the room again.

The clientele is pleasingly diverse: a wide range of ages (but no kids), a variety of ethnicities, and he spots what looks like a lesbian couple at one table, and what is definitely a gay couple at another. Funny how nice it feels to see that - he’s one of them now; he and Harvey are a Gay Couple, and while he doesn’t think of himself as gay, he has without a doubt thoroughly embraced his new bisexual identity. Or maybe Harvey-sexual would be more accurate—Mike doesn’t know if he could find another man attractive, but more importantly he has no intention of finding out. He has no intention of being with anyone else ever if he’s honest with himself, although that’s a thought he doesn’t dwell on for long because it’s too heavy for this weekend.

A quick perusal of the menu cements in Mike’s mind the absolute perfection of this place: it’s not particularly cheap but the food is good quality plain: steak, fishcakes, roast chicken, risotto, lamb chops. Harvey pretends to like fine food when he’s out shmoozing clients in Manhattan, but he’s not like Rachel or Louis; end of the day his tastes are as simple as Mike’s. Harvey woulda never admitted it when they first met but the two of them have a ton in common; that’s what’s crazy and scary and amazing about this whole thing: the more Mike gets to know Harvey, the more he learns that it’s not just at work and in bed they’re compatible—it’s everywhere. They didn’t get around to talking about Harvey’s adulthood today but Mike’s certain, especially now, that Harvey fucked up as much as Mike did when he was a young man. Those stories can wait for another weekend, as can the stories about his romantic history, because while Mike wants to hear it all he’s in absolutely no hurry. He’s not going anywhere.

The song changes to Paradise by the Dashboard Light, and Mike eyes the jukebox in the corner of the bar, a playlist forming in his head. He turns to Harvey with a delighted grin. “I can’t believe you love this place. I mean I can believe it, because it’s amazing, but... Thank you for bringing me here, Harvey.”

Harvey leans over and kisses him. “Glad you like it,” he says.

There are people singing along at the bar, including two of the bar staff, and the mood is so contagious Mike can’t keep his smile at bay. Nor can Harvey.

~

For dinner they both have exactly the same thing: steak (rare), potato dauphinoise (creamy), green beans (because Harvey insisted), leafy salad (ditto), and red wine (Merlot). Copious amounts of Merlot. The drunker they get the more random yet candid they are, at one point getting into a lengthy conversation about the ridiculousness that is Louis, which causes them to laugh so hard they have to wipe the tears from their eyes.

Their waitress Kelly returns and slides into the booth next to Harvey; perching on the outer rim, she says, “You guys want dessert?” The three of them are friends now, thanks to a lot of shameless flirting over the course of dinner and now Harvey’s topping up his glass of wine and offering it to her. 

She takes a big, grateful gulp. “Chocolate pudding,” she says, setting the wine back down in front of Harvey and wiping her mouth, so confident in her recommendation it would be stupid to doubt her. Then she grins. “And because you two are my favorite customers tonight, possibly ever, it’s on the house.”

“Well then,” Mike says, clapping his hands together. “You’re the boss of us tonight Kelly, so if you say chocolate pudding we’re having chocolate pudding.”

“With lashings of whipped cream,” Harvey says, with the excited air of a teenage boy about to get up to terrible mischief.

Kelly cackles and puts her hand on Harvey’s arm. “A man after my own heart.” She looks up at Mike, catching him staring at her hand on Harvey’s arm with raised eyebrows. “Oh look at him all possessive of you,” she says, laughing. “You two are so effing cute I can’t stand it.”

Mike rolls his eyes. Harvey reaches over and grabs his chin and they look at each other. Mike hears Kelly saying she’ll be back with their desserts in two shakes of a lamb’s tail as Harvey’s thumb slides over his bottom lip.

~

When the (crazydelicious) pudding is eaten, the wine bottle is empty and the check is paid, they stand up and make their way towards the crowd at the back of the restaurant. A small but enthusiastic group have created a makeshift dance floor and they’re dancing and singing along to Don’t You Want Me Baby—but instead of stopping at the bar to get them more drinks, Harvey grabs Mike’s hand and leads him through the crowd and out through a door in the back, down a short corridor, past the bathrooms and various doors marked ‘private’ and ‘staff only’ and then through another door that leads into an entirely different establishment; one with lower lighting, live music and a bigger, proper dance floor that’s packed with people, some of whom Mike recognizes from next door.

There’s a soul and funk band playing on a stage at the other end of the room, and there’s not a single free table. Not that Mike cares—even if there were seats he wouldn’t want to sit down. 

Harvey orders them both a brandy and they stand at the bar to watch the band, tapping their feet to the music, Harvey’s hand a constant, moving pressure on his back. 

“Come on, let’s dance,” Harvey says after a while, grabbing Mike’s hand and leading him to the dance floor.

They stay close as they dance together, smiling, talking, laughing, moving, touching. Harvey’s got good rhythm—he’s got good everything—and Mike finds the experience of dancing with him a wild, heady combination of unbearably sexy and ridiculously fun. He can’t stop himself leaning in, palms on Harvey’s cheeks, and kissing him on the mouth for a really long time. 

It’s the boldest public display of their feelings they’ve partaken in, made perfect because it’s in a place that feels both welcoming and indifferent. No one’s watching, no one minds. It could be just the two of them in there, but it’s not. It feels daring and exciting and necessary. They’ll never get to be like this in New York—hell, Mike hasn’t told a soul about Harvey; they’re In The Closet, because they have to be, hiding from everyone who would actually care, or want to know, or hold it against them. 

But here they can just _be_.

They dance and drink and dance and drink for a few more hours, and then they walk home arm in arm, giggling like idiots, occasionally stopping to make out on the street. If they get any funny stares on the way, Mike doesn’t notice. It couldn’t matter less what anyone else thinks of them, he’s never felt happier and looking into Harvey’s eyes is like looking into a mirror. 

Whether Harvey ever says it aloud or not—and Mike doesn’t care either way—the truth is in his eyes.

~

Mike shoves a laughing Harvey onto the bed and climbs on after him, straddling his lap and grinding down, sliding against Harvey’s cock, the sensation making them both groan. Harvey undoes Mike’s fly and fetches his cock from his underwear. Mike whispers, “I’m so hard for you,” and rocks up into Harvey’s tight fist. 

“Yeah you are,” Harvey murmurs. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I had fun all day.”

“Me too. How’s your—“ he takes his hand off Mike’s cock and reaches around him to squeeze his ass. Mike hisses. “Still tender?”

“Yeah.” He topples off Harvey so he can shove his jeans and briefs down and off and then he waits until Harvey’s ridden himself of his clothes before climbing back astride his lap. 

“Okay,” Harvey says, and they slide against each other and kiss. Mike’s tempted to let Harvey fuck him, he can tell it’s what Harvey wants, but even drunk off his ass he doesn’t feel ready and he knows he can show Harvey a good time without doing that. “Did you like it? Was it what you wanted?”

And that’s a question Mike wasn’t expecting. It occurs to him for the first time that maybe Harvey’s worried about what happened on Wednesday. He nods, kisses him. “It was.”

They speed up the pace, sliding their cocks together, faces only a few inches apart. “I liked it too.” Harvey’s breathless. Mike groans. “Sometimes I’m gonna need to discipline you.” He sounds really close to the edge already, the words strained and breathy like he can barely get them out.

Mike chokes out a _yeah_ , as Harvey’s hand works his cock fast and firm, whispering encouragement— _come on baby come on_ —and even though normally being drunk slows down the process for him, tonight he’s just too damn horny, too damn happy, and so he comes all over Harvey’s belly.

It makes Harvey let go too, coming a moment later all over himself, and he’s covered in their spunk but it doesn’t stop him pulling Mike against him, into the mess. Mike slumps onto Harvey, drunk, exhausted, sated and vaguely delirious; he’d probably pass right out if Harvey weren’t keeping him awake with his kisses. 

~

Mike wakes up hot and sweaty and spooned. Harvey’s arm, slung over his waist and pressed up the length of his torso, palm spread flat on his chest, keeps him in place, wedged snug against Harvey’s body. He croaks out a groan and tries to shift away, but it just makes Harvey pull him closer so Mike decides not to fight it. It’s a little warm but he’s also way too sleepy to give a crap and attempting to open his eyes only reminded him that he drank too much last night and definitely needs another few hours in bed before he’ll be ready to face the day.

He drifts off again.

~

They take a walk down the road and grab breakfast at a café. Mike orders a stack of pancakes, with crispy bacon, banana and maple syrup while Harvey drinks black coffee and refuses to take off his sunglasses.

“You know it’s not actually cool to wear sunglasses inside right, dude?”

“When the Advil kicks in I’ll take ‘em off.” 

“Want some of my pancakes? They’re fucking delicious.”

Harvey grimaces. “No thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Mike says, tucking back in.

~

By one in the afternoon Harvey is recovered enough to put some food in his stomach, and Mike watches him wolf down what looks like a very tasty roast beef sandwich in a matter of seconds. He wouldn’t have minded a bite of it but it’s gone before he even has a chance to ask for one. 

“Wow,” he says, appalled. “You inhaled that.”

“What? I was starving.”

“I wanted to taste it.”

“You’ve already eaten. About fifty pancakes if memory serves—”

“—wasn’t fifty—”

“—How can you possibly still be hungry?”

“I’m not. But it looked really good.”

Harvey smiles, his eyes going distant as he remembers the sandwich. “It was good.”

“Damn you, Specter!” Mike shouts, shaking his fist.

Harvey laughs and says, “Come on. Let’s go home.” 

They walk back to the house. There’s not much to do to get the place looking as it was when they arrived—a few beer bottles to put in the recycling; the sheets that Harvey had washed and hung out are already dry thanks to the warmth of the wind, and so they make the bed again; Harvey fusses about in the bathroom, polishing the sink until it sparkles. They don’t have much to pack—Harvey had brought t-shirts, a change of underwear and fresh socks for both of them, and they wear the same jeans as yesterday; they shove their dirty clothes in Harvey’s overnight bag and they’re on the road for three thirty.

They barely talk on the drive home but Mike doesn’t mind the subdued atmosphere—to talk about the impending reality of New York, of Sunday night, of saying goodbye for five long, busy, stressful days…it’d break the spell. Mike wants to bask in the afterglow, and the best way to do that is to hang his arm over the car door, feel the wind rushing through him, and stare at the scenery as it whizzes by. 

They drop off the car and catch a cab back to Harvey’s place. It’s nearly seven and Mike has to think about going home at some point. But then Harvey suggests they watch a movie and it sounds like too perfect a plan to not simply acquiesce and pretend for another few hours that he doesn’t have to go anywhere.

The film they settle on watching is _Whip It_ , which Harvey owns on Blu-ray. “Girls in roller skates hitting each other,” he says, so earnestly Mike bursts out laughing. They’re lying on the couch, Mike nestled between Harvey’s legs and enjoying the light graze of Harvey’s fingertips up and down his torso, and the movie’s entertaining for sure, if not quite riveting enough to keep Mike’s focus once Harvey starts feeling him up approximately an hour in. 

By the time it’s over they’re naked and writhing around on the couch. Harvey’s so worked up he’s breathing harsh and ragged against Mike’s ear, whispering, “Can I fuck you?”

Mike likes the sound of that. His welts aren’t giving him much trouble today and Harvey seems to need it, which makes it an even more enticing prospect. “I’m not sure,” he says.

“I haven’t been inside you for over a week. Please.”

Mike worries Harvey’s earlobe with his teeth. “On one condition.”

Harvey looks so gone right now. “Anything.”

“I stay here tonight.”

The lazy blink of Harvey’s eyes and the soft moan escaping between his parted lips makes him seem so pliable that Mike can’t imagine being turned down. “That’s against the rules.”

“Do you wanna fuck me or not?”

“Yes.”

“Well.” _You do the math_ , he tells Harvey with his eyes.

“You don’t have a clean suit here,” Harvey says. “What are you gonna wear tomorrow?”

Mike strokes Harvey’s cock and kisses his neck. “I’ll get up early and go home.”

Harvey stares into Mike’s eyes for a while and then nods. “Okay. Stay. I’d like that.”

“Aha! I knew you wanted me to stay just as much as I wanted me to stay.”

He gets a rough ass squeeze for that which causes him to yelp.

“Get your ass into bed,” Harvey says, pushing Mike off him. They both stand up and make their way to the bedroom, buck naked and rock hard, and once they’re in there Harvey takes twenty minutes just to prep him and then Mike climbs on top of him and rides him.

He loves the look on Harvey’s face right now: hooded eyes and a sleepy smile; horny, blissed out and contented, like there’s no place else he’d rather be. Perspiration beading on his cheeks and forehead, skin glowing, tongue slipping out to lick at his lips, mouth open and drawing breath after breath, soft throaty gasps punctuating slowly thrusting hips. Occasionally he throws his head back and shuts his eyes, but mostly he just stares at Mike. He holds Mike’s face in his hands, fingers tangling his hair, thumb pulling at Mike’s bottom lip. 

“I love your face,” Mike says.

“I love yours,” Harvey replies.

~

They fall asleep a tangle of limbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: During their first foray into BDSM, the boys (deliberately) play outside the box: Mike manipulates Harvey into punishing him, but has second thoughts in the heat of the moment, which he verbalizes when he discovers Harvey intends to use his belt. Harvey carries on regardless. They do not discuss limits, and Harvey denies Mike’s request for a safe word, but rest assured, it's definitely what they both want, and Mike is not remotely traumatized by what happens.


	3. Chapter 3

At five in the morning the alarm on Mike’s phone shocks him out of a deep sleep. He groans and blindly gropes the bedside table until he finds the offending siren and thumps at it until it shuts the fuck up. Harvey grumbles something unintelligible beside him and rolls away to the other side of the bed, burrowing under the covers. 

“Fuck I’ve gotta go,” Mike whispers, horrified. This was a terrible idea. Why did he agree to it? Why did he come up with it in the first place? Not only does he have to get up immediately even though he’s only had four hours sleep, he’s got to shower, get dressed, catch a cab all the way to his place, get changed and then go to work. He groans again and attempts to will his heavy limbs to action. “I’ve gotta go right now.”

The sound of a croaky hum emanates from the Harvey shaped mound beneath the duvet cover. And then, “See you at work.”

Functioning entirely on autopilot, the next few hours creep by in a monotonous blur of activity and by the time Mike gets to work he’s feeling almost human, having drunk two cups of black coffee and bathed his sore eyeballs in the crisp wind of the morning air. It’s definitely autumn. 

He’s more tired than he’s used to being (and he’s used to being pretty damn tired), but he’s not in a bad mood, not after that weekend, and it’s easy enough to throw himself into work – he’s got a stack of briefs on his desk that need proofing and today’s as good a time as any to make a dent in them. That said, maybe Harvey will give him something interesting to do this week and they can have some non-x-rated fun together, doing the _other_ thing they’re super fucking awesome at.

At quarter to twelve he gets a call from Donna telling him Harvey wants to see him immediately. Mike tries his best to keep his glee under wraps as he stands up and walks normally (as opposed to sprinting) down the corridor to the elevators. And when he gets to Harvey’s office he’s got his lips pressed shut and his stomach clenched tight in an effort not to giggle. 

It looks like Harvey is doing exactly the same thing, but Mike breaks first, huge grin spreading across his face, the muscles in his stomach working like crazy and his shoulders shaking as he laughs under his breath, helpless and unstoppable. Harvey puts a fist to his mouth but he’s smiling his face off, and then, because Mike can’t stop laughing, Harvey loses it too.

Donna appears beside him. “What’s going on with you two?”

Mike stops laughing and stares at her. “Nothing!” he says, but then realizes he sounds suspiciously defensive so he offers her his most innocent smile, before cracking up again.

Donna’s staring at him as if he should be taking her seriously. “Why is he laughing?” She points at Harvey but keeps her eyes fixed on Mike. “He doesn’t laugh.”

“I do too laugh,” Harvey says, sounding offended.

“Yeah,” Mike says. “He does.” He gestures at Harvey, palm up. “See.”

“What the hell,” Donna says, looking back and forth from Mike to Harvey, Harvey to Mike. “Is going on.”

Harvey starts laughing again. 

“It was just a—” Mike really has no idea how to explain this. “Joke. A stupid, unfunny joke.”

“No it was funny,” Harvey says. “Mike.” His name said like a warning, as if Mike needs to rethink his story. 

Which of course he does, because why would Harvey be laughing at an _un_ funny joke? Jesus.

“Okay, yeah, no, it was funny,” Mike assures Donna. “But it was private.”

In his periphery he can see Harvey rolling his eyes.

Donna’s staring daggers at them both. “Don’t think I won’t get to the bottom of this,” she warns. “Because I will.” And then she returns to her desk.

Mike grins at Harvey. “You wanted me?”

Harvey’s eyes and smile widen almost comically, the slight nod of his head betraying exactly how he’s choosing to interpret Mike’s (mostly) innocent question.

“Harvey,” Mike says, giving him a ‘pull yourself together’ look.

“We’re going to see Nigel Bishop, we can grab lunch on the way.”

“Who’s Nigel Bishop?”

Harvey stands up and buttons his jacket. “Our client. A fact you should already know.”

“I do know. I was just testing you.”

“Nice try.” Harvey slaps the thick file to Mike’s chest as he walks past him. “Learn it.”

Mike follows him out. “Bye Donna,” he says with a cheerful smile as they pass her desk.

“Don’t talk to me,” she says, raising her palm at him and tossing her head to the side. 

~

In the elevator, Mike says, “I’m so tired.” And then he gets the giggles again.

“Me too,” Harvey replies, cracking up as well. They don’t stop sniggering until they’ve reached the ground floor and then they walk through the foyer with stupid grins on their faces.

Ray’s waiting for them outside with a CD in his hand. “You have to check this out,” he says, handing it to Harvey and opening the back door. “You look happy today.” He looks at Mike. “You too. Is there something I should know about?”

“No,” Harvey says. “What’s the music?”

“You ever heard of Ma Rainey?”

“Old school. Lesbian. I’m impressed.”

Ray chuckles. “And I’m offended that you sound so surprised.”

Harvey slides into his seat grinning, and Mike remembers that he should probably be getting into the car as well, so he circles round to his side and hops in.

~

That week the touching starts.

Never when there’s anyone else around, and at first Mike thought it was an anomaly. It’s Wednesday and they’re on their way to meet with a potential witness—a task Harvey would normally assign to Mike solo, but which he’s decided this time is important enough to require his presence as well—and they’re riding down the elevator, they’re alone, they’re standing close to each other. Harvey grabs the fingertips of Mike’s right hand and squeezes them, causing Mike to inhale sharply through his nose and then forget how to breathe. Harvey caresses Mike’s fingertips until the car stops at the fourth floor, and then he releases them, slipping the offending hand into his pocket, as if he hadn’t just been doing something completely against the rules. 

A courier, with blond dreads and a mellow smile, enters the elevator and says, “Hey bro,” to Harvey.

“Hey Nicky,” Harvey replies, friendly and sincere. “How’s your day?”

Nicky grins and says, “Can’t complain. What’s new with you?”

“Nothing much.” The two of them nod their heads at each other, smiling and relaxed. It’s weird. Nicky is definitely stoned, definitely nice, definitely quite hot, and Harvey just slots into the mood of it; this chilled out bro in a suit, cooler (and nicer) and more surprising than any one person has a right to be. Mike can’t take his eyes of Harvey’s gorgeous, sweet-natured face and his irrepressible, genuine smile. 

“Take it easy, Harvey,” Nicky says when they reach the ground floor, before jogging away from them. 

Harvey lifts his chin. “See ya.”

Mike punches Harvey lightly on the arm. “You’re awesome.”

Harvey raises an eyebrow, but he looks pleased.

~

On Thursday in the town car, headed to a meeting with a client, Harvey reaches over and puts his hand on Mike’s thigh, giving Mike a gentle squeeze and then leaving his hand there. Mike exhales and shuts his eyes, pleasure washing over him. He looks at Harvey, who’s staring out the window, the very picture of contentment.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow night,” Mike murmurs.

Harvey keeps looking out the window, his smile turning into a grin.

Mike nearly suggests they forget about the stupid rules (which Harvey is totally breaking anyway, every time he touches Mike during work hours) and spend tonight together, but the thought of Harvey saying no distresses him; and he never quite builds up the nerve before it’s time to part ways for the day. Harvey stops by his cubicle on his way out to say goodbye, and Mike watches him walk away with a sigh. Still, better to not know either way than to be rejected. And it’s only one more night he has to get through.

~

Harvey’s mood is contagiously good on Friday and he’s even more handsy than he was yesterday. Any opportunity he has to touch Mike without being seen, he takes advantage of, and Mike’s getting close to the point where he’s going to start touching back.

Because up until—and including—today he hasn’t felt like it’s…allowed. Silly, really, given Harvey’s shameless rule-breaking all week, but there’s something about the way Harvey is touching him—something _dominant_ —that makes Mike feel like if he touches back he’ll be in trouble. 

Which…well, that’s a dynamic Mike finds himself enjoying very much, so when he does decide to initiate physical contact in this most riskiest of environments it has to be an overt act of rebellion; it has to be something that might arouse Harvey’s ire.

~

At five thirty he stands in front of Harvey in Harvey’s office, Donna directly behind him so he’s blocking Donna’s view of Harvey. Anyone could walk past and see through the glass; could see that they’re standing closer to one another than is strictly necessary. Harvey’s talking to him about the dickhead lawyer they met with earlier today and the strategy they’re going to use to beat him, and Mike’s nodding along, spouting the occasional “okay” or “cool” or “no problem” or “are you sure that’s ethical?”

Then he reaches out and presses the tip of his index finger to Harvey’s chest, in the center of his sternum, before trailing it slowly downward to the waistband of his pants.

Harvey stops talking.

Mike puts both of his hands in his pockets. “You were saying?”

Ah, the pursed lipped smile of the disarmed and dangerous. “No, we’re done here,” Harvey says, his expression darkening. “I’m going home now. Have fun with those contracts.”

It doesn’t trouble Mike one bit; he infuses his own smile with a promise of what’s to come, slowly licking his lips, and he sees a flicker of arousal in Harvey’s eyes. He mouths _see you soon_ before turning and walking away, Donna peering at him as he passes her.

~

He arrives at the apartment at eight fifteen and Harvey jumps him the moment he’s inside, ravenous kisses and desperate hands all over him, attacking the buttons of Mike’s shirt while Mike tugs off his tie and flings it away. Harvey’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans; and he’s in a certain frame of mind.

“How dare you touch me at work,” he hisses, hauling Mike behind the couch and pushing him against the back of it, Harvey’s hands making fast, rough work of Mike’s shirt and undershirt. He groans when he tugs Mike’s pants and underwear down over his ass, which Mike knows still bears the fading bruises from a week ago Wednesday. “Oh Jesus.” 

Harvey’s standing so close behind him Mike can feel him unzipping his fly, and he must have had lube in his pocket or something because his cock is slick when he pushes it inside Mike, faster than he probably should given the total lack of preparation, but it’s okay because Mike’s body is relaxed and pliable with arousal so it doesn’t hurt at all, it just feels awesome. Harvey’s high, throaty moans are full of desperation and relief and Mike knows he won’t last long, but it’s cool because he’s as eager for this as Harvey is and all he wants right now is for them both to come. 

“What made you think you could touch me?”

Mike pants and fucks back. “You kept touching me. I was copying you.”

Harvey wraps one arm around Mike’s belly, the other across his torso and he hauls him up against his body, hips speeding up, and then his fingers close around Mike’s throat. “I didn’t give you permission to copy me.” He’s cutting off Mike’s air supply and Mike’s cock hardens. He grabs it and works his fist as fast as he can, so that when Harvey thrusts in one last time and comes, Mike climaxes too. All over the back of the black leather couch.

~

They clean up—Harvey spends quite some time sponging Mike’s jizz off the couch until it’s pristine again—and then Harvey feeds him. 

It’s the first time Harvey’s ever cooked for him, and Mike is pleasantly surprised. It’s a simple but tasty pasta dish with chili, garlic, white wine and king prawns that Mike has two helpings of, much to Harvey’s ill-disguised glee. They drink Californian Chardonnay, and it's official: Mike has acquired a taste for white wine. Must be part of the turning gay thing.

Mike asks Harvey to tell him about his previous relationships, to which Harvey says, “No, absolutely not.” But when needled a bit more he soon caves and tells Mike all about his first love.

A girl called Rita who Harvey met in high school and spent six glorious months with, until she went away to college on the other side of the country. They’d known each other years in that high school way where you know who someone is but don’t know anything real about them; but when they interacted properly for the first time something magical happened. 

Harvey found his soul mate.

Mike laughs. “Aw, you believe in soul mates.”

“Not any more,” is Harvey’s droll reply.

Harvey was at a keg party in a field, hosted by some of his friends, and there was Rita—a bookish, pretty girl who captained the debate team and who Harvey had never considered cool enough to be interested in—sitting with another girl (whose identity Harvey can’t recall) in front of a fire-in-a-drum, drunk and high and being hilarious. Once she realized she had Harvey’s delighted attention she stopped entertaining her friend and started bantering with Harvey instead, and from that moment on they were inseparable. Rita made him laugh, and not many people made Harvey laugh. She was awesome, she was better than everyone else, and finding her was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“We were teenagers” Harvey explains to a highly amused Mike. “That’s what it felt like back then.” 

“Kinda still feels like that,” Mike murmurs, bowing his head and grinning. 

When he looks back up Harvey’s gazing at him. “Kinda does, doesn’t it.”

They look at each other until it gets too intense and then Harvey goes back to his story.

That first night with Rita they lamented not having connected sooner and vowed to spend as much time with each other as possible over the next six months, before Rita was due to leave town and go off to college.

They didn’t even kiss that night but they met up at two o’clock the next day and spent the entire afternoon wandering around town, hanging out on the swings in the playground, smoking weed in the cemetery, getting to know each other, the way kids do, because they don’t have any money and all they want is to be near each other anyway, it doesn’t matter where. Harvey walked her home once the sun was set, and then the two of them went and lay on their backs on the trampoline in Rita’s backyard, staring up at the stars, pontificating and philosophizing like emo smart kids are wont to do. That’s when Harvey kissed her for the first time, but they didn’t get too far because Rita’s dad turned up, shining a torch in Harvey’s face until the two of them hopped off the trampoline and Harvey was hustled out onto the street and ordered home.

Harvey didn’t manage to get into her pants for five whole weeks. 

He wasn’t a virgin—

“—and I want that story next,” Mike interrupts.

—but Rita was. It was the first time Harvey had been with someone he loved though, and while he’s always been a fan of casual sex with beautiful strangers, he admits that it is better when you care about the person.

“Yeah no shit.”

They fucked at every opportunity after that first time; Rita had an insatiable sexual appetite, which Harvey was more than happy to oblige. It was a perfect six months, and their relationship ended after the last great summer of his childhood. A great summer with a great girl, and when they said goodbye to each other they promised they’d meet again and give it another shot when life got around to making it possible for them.

“Did you stay in touch?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen her a few times, most recently at my twenty-year high school reunion. Don’t comment on that like I can tell you want to. She’s exactly the same: a little heavier, a little wrinklier – like me – but still the funniest woman I’ve ever met after Donna.”

“So there’s still chemistry?”

“Sure. But she’s happily married with four children now.”

“Oh man, that’s so nice. She’ll always have a special place in your heart.”

Harvey rolls his eyes.

“Who did you lose your virginity to?”

“Uh uh,” Harvey says, shaking his head. “Your turn. Who did you lose yours to?”

Mike was sixteen.

“Ha, me too,” Harvey says.

Mike had been dating a girl called Annabel for a year. He was desperately horny all the time and had tried on numerous occasions to put his dick in her, but she wasn’t ready and had a ‘fingers only’ rule, as well as an ‘I’m not putting that in my mouth’ rule, but then one day she just didn’t want to stop. Mike had gotten really good at finger fucking and she was so wet and turned on that when Mike took off her panties she let him. When Mike took off his own jeans, she didn’t tell him to stop. When Mike took off his t-shirt, she followed suit, and they kept going until they were completely naked with each other for the first time. And when Mike tried to push his dick inside her she told him to stop and put a condom on. Which he did as fast as he possibly could so she wouldn’t have time to change her mind.

He lasted approximately twenty seconds that first time, but Annabel wasn’t discouraged. She just kept making out with Mike until he was ready to go again, and the second time he managed to last for a good five minutes.

She didn’t have an orgasm until their twelfth time together and when it happened it surprised them both; she had been blowing Mike (having reneged on her ‘I’m not putting that in my mouth’ rule, thank Christ) and was really worked up, really turned on. Turned out she loved having it in her mouth after all, because after a minute or so of blowing him she was so aroused she couldn’t put the condom on Mike fast enough—she was even faster than Mike had been that first time—and then she climbed into his lap, sank down onto his cock and rode herself to orgasm in ten seconds. 

“Hot,” Harvey says, looking vaguely aroused.

“Now you.”

“Wait. Did you two stay together long?”

“After her orgasm? Another eight months, two weeks, three days.”

Harvey leans back in his chair and smiles at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just. Your memory.”

Mike flushes with pleasure.

Harvey’s first time was with a girl three years older than him. 

His best friend in high school was a guy called Peter, whose obscenely rich parents were never around so he and Harvey spent a lot of time at Peter’s place. Peter had a sister called Beth, and Beth had a friend called Sally. 

Sally was nineteen, with cropped, jet-black hair, tattoos all over her body, her tongue pierced, and the longest legs Harvey had ever seen. She was a sarcastic, cynical bitch who rarely cracked a smile; Harvey found her captivating. 

Peter liked Sally too so was happy to insinuate himself and Harvey into his sister’s weekend plans: their parents were on vacation in Italy and the kids had been left to their own devices, so Beth and Sally were going to spend their entire weekend, from Friday to Sunday, raiding the liquor cabinet, smoking their way through an ounce of weed that Sally had procured, and entertaining a long, disparate succession of seemingly random people the girls claimed to be friends with.

By Saturday night the house was jammed, Peter had gotten so wasted he was already passed out in bed, and Harvey was hanging out with Sally in Peter’s parents’ bedroom. They were both drunk and stoned, lounging on the king size bed, talking shit and flirting like crazy. Sally was wearing skin-tight jeans and a sparkly black top that had ridden up above her pierced naval, the soft curve of her belly so enticing Harvey’s fingers itched with the urge to touch her. He had a massive hard-on and absolutely no idea what he was doing. He’d made out with a few girls before but had never gotten farther than second base, and there he was with this older, experienced _woman_ , and he didn’t even have condoms on him. He remembers cursing himself for not going to the store that morning—he’d developed his crush on Sally the night before when they'd hung out just the four of them and he should have been more optimistic and stocked up, but the truth was, never in a million years had he expected to actually score. 

“It is so hard to imagine you not brimming with sexual confidence.”

Sally not only seduced Harvey that night, she spent half an hour instructing him in the art of cunnilingus (“I’m very good at it, thanks to her,” Harvey tells Mike, who believes him), and then awed Harvey even more by providing the condoms. They kept having sex all night in Peter’s parents’ bed, not falling asleep til it was light out. A few hours later they were woken by Beth, who came into the bedroom with a tray bearing coffee and toast, which she set down at the foot of the bed and then hopped into it with them.

“Weird.”

“Yeah, Beth was cool.”

Then they get sidetracked when Mike demands to know what drugs Harvey has done. “All of them,” is Harvey’s deadpan answer, and Mike shelves that line of inquiry for another day.

“What about your first time with a guy?”

Harvey stills. “I told you about him.”

“That TA dick was your first? Oh _what_. That’s…I hate that guy.”

“Yep. He was my first.”

“Okay fine. How did it happen?”

Freddie was a brilliant young academic, doing a PhD (Harvey has no recollection of his thesis) and he was the TA in Harvey’s Criminology class. He and Harvey hit it off early on, and it was the only class Harvey really cared about that first year. Harvey was aware that he was physically attracted to Freddie but nervous about the implications of that, having never acted on his attraction to men before. He hadn’t cared enough about any of the guys he’d wanted before Freddie so hadn’t gone out of his way to make anything happen, but when the year was over Harvey found himself genuinely freaked out about the thought of not seeing him again. 

“Did you know he was gay?”

“Yeah.”

It was obvious Freddie felt something too by the way he indulged Harvey. He’d spend hours with him after class discussing theory, and then when they got more comfortable with each other, music, pop culture and cars.

“I am never going to talk about cars with you by the way. I just want to make that clear right now.”

“Duly noted.”

At the end of the semester, after their last class together, Harvey asked Freddie out for a drink.

After one pint of beer Freddie suggested they go back to his apartment for some coffee, to which Harvey agreed. 

“And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“No way. There’s more to the story than that.”

“You want details?” Harvey looks dubious.

“Yeah,” Mike says, narrowing his eyes. “Did he fuck you?”

Harvey swallows, looks down with a smile. “Yes.”

“You let him fuck you?”

“I did.”

“Did you like it?”

Harvey nods.

“Did he always fuck you, or did you…” Mike rotates his index finger. “Switch things up occasionally?”

Harvey stares at Mike and takes a while to respond. “We did everything. He fucked me, I fucked him. He licked out my ass. You haven’t done that yet.”

“I haven’t fucked you yet either.”

“Is that something you’d like to do?”

“Oh yeah,” Mike says, nodding. “You have no idea.”

They clear up their dishes and move to the bedroom.

~

“What was it like the first time Freddie put his cock in your ass?” Mike whispers to Harvey. 

Harvey’s lying on his stomach, naked, and Mike’s on his side next to him, head propped up with one hand, the other busy fingering Harvey’s ass. Harvey moans and moves in rhythm with Mike’s hand. Breathes out, “It felt fucking great.”

“You ready to have my cock inside you?” Mike asks him.

Harvey moans and moves faster.

“I can tell that you are,” Mike whispers, kneeling up and pulling Harvey’s thighs further apart, climbing between them. He pries Harvey’s ass cheeks apart and stares down at his target: dark, crinkled hole, shiny and a little swollen from the work Mike’s done with his fingers; his own cock is so hard it’s pointing at his chin. He leans down and grabs the KY, squeezes a little into his palm, rubs his hands together and smoothes them down over his erection. “God I can’t wait to do this. I have thought about this a lot. You wouldn’t believe it.”

And it’s like Harvey can’t even talk, he just goes a little bit wild under Mike, grasping at the sheets, pushing his ass back, breathing harsh and shallow. He’s begging Mike with his body and Mike has all the power in the world right now and Harvey’ll do anything for this, he’ll give Mike anything he wants.

It’s necessary that Mike sees every step of the process so he says, “Can you— kneel up a bit so your ass is in the air and hold yourself open for me.”

Harvey follows his orders without even hesitating which arouses Mike so much he can barely see straight. He shuffles forward and rests the tip of his cock against Harvey’s hole. He presses and watches, riveted, as Harvey opens around him, taking him inside, just the head at first and Christ he’s tight. Mike pushes in deeper but he goes slow and then he pulls out nearly all the way, for both the sensation and the sight of it; pushes back in and Jesus he’s nearly all the way there Harvey stretching wide around him oh Christ so tight _so fucking tight_. 

“Jesus,” he says when he’s balls-deep in Harvey’s ass, shuddering with the effort to keep still. “Are you okay?” he pants, holding on to Harvey’s hips.

Chin to his chest, Harvey breathes out an _oh yeah_ as he presses back. “Move.”

Mike can barely talk but he manages to say, “Okay,” and start thrusting, shallow at first, speeding up by increment, the delicious clench around his cock so good he feels delirious. “Fuck me oh fuck me,” he whispers. “Oh my God.”

It’s better than he could possibly have imagined, with Harvey beneath him, joined to him, sexier than any human being has a right to be, moaning with pleasure. Harvey loves being fucked, he loves it; not that Mike’s surprised. Everything else he’s wanted this badly Harvey has wanted too, and knowing that this is something they’ll do many times in the future, floods him with lust. 

Mike is the luckiest man on the planet.

He wants to come but he also wants this to go on forever. “You like my cock?” he asks Harvey, going faster.

Harvey’s voice is a sharp whisper. “Fuck me, yes. Fuck me harder.”

“Oh man, you say all the right things.” Mike increases the power of his thrusts to the point where, in a distant space in his head, somewhere beyond the intense rushes of pleasure, he wonders how this isn’t hurting Harvey. But apparently he’s not because Harvey moves with him, as energetic as Mike, taking it all and begging for more with the euphoric noises he can’t seem to help making. 

With a series of breathless shouts, Mike wraps his arms around Harvey so their bodies are jammed up close, and comes. 

It takes a good few minutes of hoarse panting before he’s recovered enough to extract himself and collapse onto the bed. “You okay?” he asks, running a palm over Harvey’s sweat-damp hair, a little worried that he’d been too aggressive.

Harvey’s dazed smile appeases him. “Yes,” Harvey says, rolling onto his side and stretching his arms out towards Mike. “I loved it.”

Mike mimes lobbing a basketball into a hoop. “He shoots, he _scores_.”

~

They spend the entirety of Saturday morning in bed: chatting, dozing, having intermittent sex without orgasms, before giving up, too exhausted to continue, and falling asleep again for a while; chatting while fucking, taking lots of breaks just to lie in each other’s arms and touch. At a quarter to twelve Harvey suggests they get up and face the world, so Mike sits up on his knees, straddles Harvey and masturbates. 

“I agree that we need to get up, but I wanna come first.”

Harvey chuckles, already a little breathless. “Me too.”

And so they jerk off together, and the sight of Harvey pleasuring himself gets Mike insanely excited. He puts on a bit of a show himself: stroking his cock slow and sensual before taking his hand away so Harvey can admire his erection, rolling his balls around in his palm, licking his fingertips and circling his nipples until they’re stiff, spitting saliva into the palm of his hand and smoothing it down over his cock, making it shine. 

“Such an exhibitionist,” Harvey murmurs with a smile, his hand speeding up. “You look fucking great.”

“You too,” Mike replies. “You’re gorgeous.”

Harvey hums with pleasure and arches his back.

“I wanna come on your face,” Mike says, edging up the bed astride Harvey’s torso, taking Harvey’s helpless groan in response as permission. He pumps his fist and the pitch of his moaning gets higher and higher, Harvey staring up at him with clenched teeth, his big brown eyes slipping in and out of focus. “Oh God _ah_.” He comes, splashing thick and white onto Harvey’s face, a long stripe landing on Harvey’s cheek, another on his lips and chin, and Harvey opens his mouth to catch the next spurt. “Fuck me that looks good,” Mike whispers, as Harvey circles his lips with his tongue like a cat. He slumps onto Harvey’s chest, Harvey’s arm working overtime, jerking himself off and coming all over Mike’s ass with a groan.

After a minute or so, Harvey says, “Get off me. I need to wash the come off my face immediately.”

Mike bursts out laughing.

~

They venture outside just after one, showered, shaved and starving, and hit the local deli to stock up on any and everything they might wish to eat when they get back home. Mike stops at the cheese section and gazes in confusion at the extensive selection. He knows he wants cheese but he has no idea what most of these varieties even taste like. Harvey joins him and slings an arm around his shoulder. Mike turns his head to face him and Harvey leans in and kisses him. 

“What cheese do you like?” Mike asks him.

“How about some camembert? This one’s good.” He picks it up and hands it to Mike.

Mike screws up his nose. “It doesn’t smell good.” 

“That’s kinda the point. Trust me, it tastes better than it smells.”

“Can we just get some cheddar or something?”

“We’ll get both, because you are in serious need of some education in the pleasures of stinky cheese.”

“Fine. But don’t blame me if I don’t like it.”

Harvey rolls his eyes, grabs a block of cheddar, drops it in their cart and walks on. 

Going shopping for food on an empty stomach is never a good idea, as they spend nearly a hundred bucks in the end, but Mike finds the entire experience exceptionally pleasurable. They take forty five minutes all in, wandering down each isle, picking anything that looks like it might taste good, and talking about food. Even better, Harvey is all over him.

He can’t seem to keep his hands to himself, even when there are other people around to see. Mike pushes the cart and Harvey walks beside him, his hand resting between Mike’s shoulder blades. If they stop to look at produce and discuss whether something should be added to the pile, Harvey’ll hold Mike’s hand, or caress the back of Mike’s neck, or if there’s no one in view, he’ll pet Mike’s ass.

They’re a proper couple, just like any other, and Mike feels secure and happy.

~

Mike is surprised to discover that he loves camembert, which Harvey is hilariously excited about. Harvey is always happy when he’s responsible for Mike’s discovering a new pleasure.

After lunch they settle into the couch in the lounge, at opposite ends and facing each other, their legs entwined, and they read for a few hours. Mike reads the paper and a novel; Harvey just reads the paper.

Then he stands up and disappears for a while. When he returns he’s got a clear plastic box in his hand that contains a crimson dress shirt. He hands it to Mike. “That’s for you. I’m taking you out tonight and I want you to wear it.”

Mike’s mouth falls open when he sees the label. “Prada. Wow.” It’s almost exactly the same color as the t-shirt he wore last week to the Hamptons that Harvey said he loved. He smiles, but that turns quickly into a frown. “I don’t have any pants nice enough to go with this.”

“I took care of that too – they’re hanging in my closet.”

One of the perks of dating a man, Mike can’t help but notice, is the gifts. Some of his girlfriends would buy him things occasionally but as a general rule he spent more on them than they did on him. Harvey though, never lets Mike spend his own money, and Mike is surprised how little that bothers him. Truth is, he loves it, and he doesn’t feel guilty because it’s totally fair enough as far as he’s concerned. Harvey is rich, Harvey loves spending money, Harvey loves spending money on _Mike_ , and Mike loves getting presents. It’s a win-win situation.

Harvey’s closet is obscene. It’s about the same size as Mike’s entire apartment, except organized to a frightening degree. 

“Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?” Mike asks him as he stands in front of a row of pristine suits, ordered by color – impressive given that they’re nearly all shades of gray. Harvey’s at the other end of the room—because it is basically a room, not a closet—black pants on a hanger, dangling from crooked fingers. 

“Take off your jeans,” Harvey says, his authoritative tone making the order sound totally sexual. Mike leers at him and Harvey chuckles. “That’s not what I meant. Just…come on. Try these on.”

When Mike is dressed, in Prada shirt and perfectly tailored pants that Harvey must have had made to measure, he walks out into the bedroom and where Harvey is sitting on the bed waiting for him, spreads his arms, does a slow twirl, and waits for the verdict.

He’s rewarded with a low whistle and a slow clap. “Perfect,” Harvey murmurs.

“These pants are really nice. How did you know my measurements?”

“I don’t. But Rene does.”

Mike’s eyes widen. “So you told Rene about us?”

Harvey hesitates before nodding.

“Who else have you told?”

“My family knows.” He hops off the bed and heads to the closet, presumably in an attempt to put a stop to the conversation. But Mike follows him and watches him get changed out of his jeans and into his own evening attire.

“Really? Your entire family?” Mike doesn’t mean to sound quite so incredulous but it makes Harvey shoot him an impatient frown.

“Yes. Why? You’ve told your grandmother, right?”

Mike shakes his head. “I haven’t told anyone.”

“Huh.”

“I’m going to,” he assures Harvey. “I just…I dunno, I didn’t wanna jinx it or something. Plus, I’ve kind of been a terrible grandson and haven’t visited her for a few weeks. Been busy, y’know. With you.”

Harvey nods, pulling on a forest green dress shirt and buttoning it up.

“Hey, why don’t you and I go visit her tomorrow?”

Harvey’s eyes shoot up to meet Mike’s. “Um…are you sure blindsiding her is a good idea? She’s under the impression that you’re straight, remember.”

“She’ll be fine,” Mike says. “And I want her to meet you.”

Harvey mulls it over for a second and then says. “Okay. And I’ve got a Skype date with my brother in the morning, so you can meet him too.”

A rush of nervous excitement renders Mike speechless for a few moments. “Cool,” he says. “Okay. So that’s settled then. We’re taking this relationship to the next level. Jesus Christ. I feel like a panic attack might be appropriate at this juncture.”

Harvey chuckles and continues dressing.

~

They arrive ten minutes late for their seven o’clock booking at an uptown restaurant Harvey claims is excellent. The hostess is gracious and accommodating, seating them at what she promises them is the best table in the house. She doesn’t know Harvey personally, but it’s obvious she knows of him, and has been instructed to treat him like royalty. The moment they sit down they’re given champagne, courtesy of the manager.

“You come here often?” Mike asks him.

“The food’s not as pretentious as appearances might lead you to expect.” Harvey’s eyes flare with excitement. “You should have the lobster.”

Mike grins. “Okay.” That’s one fancy dish Mike can definitely get behind.

He selects the lobster he’s going to eat from a tank on wheels that is rolled up to their table. 

“Poor little guy,” he says, tapping the glass in front of his prey. “You don’t have much time left, my friend, but your death will not be in vain.”

“Yes it will,” Harvey tells the lobster.

“Hey,” Mike says, turning to glare at Harvey. “Don’t make him feel worse about this than he already does.”

When it arrives Mike tucks his napkin into the collar of his shirt like a bib, much to Harvey’s amusement.

“All in the name of Prada,” he explains, picking up his nutcracker and diving in.

They don’t talk much while they eat but Harvey occasionally reaches over the table with a forkful of his extremely delicious pear risotto and feeds it to Mike, and Mike gives Harvey chunks of lobster with his fingers, smiling at the feeling of Harvey’s tongue and lips sucking his fingertips clean.

~

“What are we doing after this?” Mike says, finishing his glass of white and tucking into his lemon cheesecake. 

“Movie,” Harvey says. “Snow White and the Huntsman.”

Mike gives Harvey a delighted smile. “Cool. I was scared you were going to make me go to the opera or something.”

“Do I look like Louis to you?”

~

Their reactions to the film are wildly different—Harvey loves it, Mike hates it—and they have a lively argument about its merits or lack thereof all the way home in the taxi, both so enthusiastic about their own critique that talking about it is an enjoyable waste of time, as neither has any intention of budging from their position.

It wasn’t like it was a bad experience for Mike, anyway. The film wasn’t his cup of tea but Harvey’s hand fondling his thigh for a couple of hours definitely was.

~

Back in the safety of Harvey’s bedroom, they get undressed, still bickering about the film, although they find common ground when Mike proposes that Charlize Theron is by far the fairest of them all and that tag-teaming her would be an extremely pleasurable way to spend an evening.

Harvey starts laughing. “That would indeed be extremely pleasurable way to spend an evening.”

“I know right? I can think of very few more pleasurable ways to spend an evening.”

“Kristen Stewart can come too.”

Mike doubles over. “Yes, she’s more than welcome. Not only would I enjoy making sweet love to Charlize _and_ Kristen, I would enjoy watching you do the same.”

They slip into bed and into each other’s arms, snickering.

“Do you miss sleeping with women?” Mike asks, but he’s not really bothered about the answer. He just wants to talk about having sex with girls.

Harvey sucks on his earlobe and seems to get it. “No. Do you wanna watch some porn?”

“Yeah. Fuck yeah,” Mike says. “Do you have any porn with really hot women in it? Preferably who like going down on each other?”

“What do you think?” 

“Well go get it then!” Mike pushes him away and Harvey slides off the bed onto the floor and pads over to the cabinet sitting against the wall opposite the bed; its doors open to reveal a large flat-screen television. In the drawer at the base of the cabinet, Harvey trails a finger over what Mike assumes is his porn collection, before plucking out a DVD and putting it in the DVD player. 

Harvey returns to the bed, retrieving a bottle of lube from the bedside table on his way and setting it down on the bed, before stacking all the pillows against the headboard so he can sit up against them comfortably. Mike slots himself between Harvey’s legs, his back flush against Harvey’s bare chest, and then Harvey presses play, sets the remote down on the bed beside them, and wraps his arms around Mike’s torso.

The story is both terrible and awesome: 

Lucy, Abby and Clara are having a slumber party in their lingerie. They’re talking and giggling about boys and sex and the conversation is so dirty it gets them all super horny. So they start making out with each other. Mike favors Lucy, who has wild black hair, pale skin and natural-looking tits; Harvey’s favorite is busty, blonde Abby, who looks more like a conventional porn star but whose dirty smile and piercing blue eyes give her the air of an exceptionally naughty vixen (“Just you wait – she’s really good,” Harvey promises). 

In the midst of the slumber orgy, there’s a knock at the door. It’s the pizza delivery boy! Lucy answers the door wearing only her panties, perky breasts and hard nipples catching Pizza Boy’s eye immediately. Fortunately for the girls (and for Harvey apparently – “Mm, I love this guy”), Pizza Boy is tall, lean, blond and chiseled (“I see you have a type,” Mike observes), and more than willing to follow Lucy into the bedroom so she can get her purse. Clara and Abby are on the bed, now naked, and Abby’s fingers are buried deep inside Clara. 

“Oh my goodness I don’t have any cash on me,” Lucy says, proffering her empty purse to the distracted Pizza Boy, before turning to the girls. “Do either of you have any money?” 

They don’t, sadly, so Lucy offers Pizza Boy a profuse apology and a blowjob instead. He’s into that, and soon he’s got his hard cock out and Lucy is on her knees in front of him. (“Is my cock as nice as his?” Mike asks. “Yes.”)

A little later, Pizza Boy’s manager turns up to find out what happened to him. He’s very attractive too, but angry with Pizza Boy for abandoning his post, even more so given the orgy he’s stumbled into, in which Pizza Boy is now buck naked and fucking Clara doggy-style while she eats Lucy out. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Pizza Manager demands. “You’re supposed to be working!”

It’s up to the girls to calm his very bad temper.

A little later Abby gets fucked by both pizza guys: she rides the blond one, his cock in her pussy, while the dark-haired one fucks her ass. With Harvey’s slick hand on his cock, working it in firm, measured strokes, while he lazily ruts against Mike’s lower back, it’s easy to imagine that he and Harvey are the guys fucking her, making her moan like that.

“Oh my God she’s so hot,” Mike whispers, pushing into Harvey’s tight fist, Harvey’s wet mouth on his neck. 

“Told you,” Harvey says, taking his hand away. Mike replaces it with his own, Harvey busying himself with the bottle of lube behind Mike. 

“Do you wanna fuck her, Harvey? Do you?”

“Yeah,” Harvey whispers, slipping his hands under Mike’s ass and urging him to kneel up. “And I wanna watch you fuck her. Straddle my lap…good…now shift back a little…yeah…”

Mike wriggles around until he’s in the right position and sinks slowly down onto Harvey’s hard cock. 

It’s official: watching porn while getting fucking by your super hot boyfriend is the single best way to round off a great night out.

“Would you have a threesome?” Mike pants, fucking himself on Harvey’s dick, mesmerized by Abby’s bouncing breasts and shiny pink cunt. 

“Maybe,” Harvey says. “If you wanted me to.”

Mike twists his head around and snatches a kiss. “I don’t think I do.”

“Just be sure to let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will.”

When they feel like coming, Harvey fast-forwards the film so they can watch the money shots. Pizza Boy shoots all over Lucy’s face, Pizza Manager all over Abby’s back and ass and it’s so sexy Mike comes too, all over his own fist and belly. 

Then Harvey flips Mike over so he’s on his hands and knees and slams in a few more times until he’s done.

They clean up and settle back into bed, Harvey spooning Mike and holding him close, the slow evening out of his breath in Mike’s ear lulling him into a pre-slumber trance. The last thing he remembers thinking before unconsciousness takes its hold is I love you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the endnotes for warnings.

Mike loves sleeping in. Especially now, because sleeping in means more time in bed with Harvey, and there’s nothing better in life than being in bed with Harvey. Waking up next to him, curling himself around his naked, sleep-warm body, wallowing in the comfort of his dozy affection. Mike was relieved to discover that Harvey likes to sleep in on the weekends too; if not for sleeping (because he does tend to wake up earlier than Mike), then for cuddling, and sex, and talking.

Given their weekend-only arrangement, morning sex has become an essential part of the relationship, as they have to make the most of their limited time together, and Mike can’t even imagine starting a Saturday or Sunday without it.

Today is no different.

Except that it is. Mike clings to Harvey, buries his face in Harvey’s throat and ruts against him, immersing himself in pleasure to mitigate the anxiety that took hold of him the moment he became conscious that morning.

It’s family day today—he’s meeting Harvey’s brother, and taking Harvey to meet Grammy.

What if it all goes wrong? What if Danny doesn’t like Mike? What if Grammy freaks out about Mike dating a man?

Harvey pushes Mike onto his back and climbs on top of him, mouth and tongue trailing wet all over Mike’s neck and torso.

And Mike can’t look at him. When he opens his eyes and he sees Harvey’s face, muscles slack with arousal and sleepiness, skin glowing with health and heat, the force and intensity of Mike’s feelings bring a lump to his throat and he thinks he might burst into tears if he has to look at Harvey for even a second longer. So he flips himself over and buries his face into the pillow, Harvey still straddling him, his hands running up and down Mike’s back.

Mike listens to Harvey’s sharp intake of breath and his whispered, “oh yeah,” relieved that Harvey doesn’t understand the real reason Mike turned away from him; that Harvey thinks it’s because Mike wants to be fucked. He doesn’t want Harvey to know how vulnerable he feels right now, and how scared he is about the step they’re taking today.

With Harvey’s cock nudging into him, filling him up, and his hot, damp breath on the back of Mike’s neck, the sensations are overwhelming enough to eclipse Mike’s panic, at least for the moment. He squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on moving in time with Harvey, trying to listen to the noises Harvey makes instead of the voice in his head that’s telling him their relationship is about to face its biggest test.

Harvey starts whispering in his ear, “oh Mike you feel so good,” and he speeds up, and he keeps talking, and it takes him a while to notice that Mike isn’t talking back, but he notices eventually and it makes him stop moving and twist his head around so he can look at Mike’s face, cock still buried deep inside Mike’s body.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

Mike squeezes his eyes shut and nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Harvey pulls out and lies down on his side on the bed, facing Mike. He pushes at Mike’s shoulder, guiding him to mirror his position, and says, “Look at me.”

Teeth clenched and heart racing, Mike opens his eyes to find Harvey gazing at him, his face the picture of concern.

“Mike,” Harvey says, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “Are you worried about today?”

Mike breathes out a huff of air and bows his head.

“Hey, look at me. It’s okay,” Harvey says. “It’d be weird if you weren’t nervous.”

“You’re not,” Mike says, even though he doesn’t really believe that. 

“Of course I am. I’m just good at compartmentalizing. Right now all I’m thinking about is having sex with you; later I’ll quietly freak out about meeting Grammy.”

Mike grins.

“You don’t think I’m scared she’ll hate me?”

“She won’t hate you,” Mike says, stroking Harvey’s chest with his fingertips. “She can’t hate you, because I love you.”

His words take them both by surprise. Mike’s known it for a while now but he had no intention of saying it out loud, although now that he has he’s glad of it, because the stunned look on Harvey’s face is infused with happiness.

Harvey leans in and kisses him, murmurs in his ear, “I love you too.”

“Will Danny love me?”

“Not as much as I do, but yes. Come here.” He pulls Mike into his arms and they hold each other close. “You know, I haven’t said that to anyone in over fifteen years.”

Mike snickers, suddenly feeling fine about everything. “It’s ‘cause I’m special.”

They cuddle and make out for a while and then Harvey pushes Mike onto his back and climbs in between Mike’s legs, entering him again, staring into his eyes as they fuck, never breaking eye contact, not even when he comes.

~

Mike wants to make a good impression on Danny so he shaves and spends more time than is probably acceptable fiddling with his hair, until it looks stylishly, effortlessly tousled. When he returns to the bedroom in his underwear, Harvey’s waiting for him, cup of coffee in hand. “Here,” Harvey says, handing him the mug.

“What should I wear?” Mike asks him, taking a sip. It’s just how he likes it: sweet with a splash of cream.

Harvey gives him a scrutinizing once-over and says, “Come here,” and leads Mike into the closet. At the far end of the room is a row of drawers; Harvey pulls open the top drawer and they both look into it.

“This is for you,” he says. Inside are all the t-shirts and jeans and undies and socks Mike has left there over the weeks, laundered, ironed, and ready to wear. Harvey reaches in and plucks out a cornflower blue tee and hands it to Mike. “Wear this.”

“How long have I had this drawer ?” Mike asks him, curious and pleased.

“A while.”

“Cool. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.”

~

Mike hovers near the door of the living room as Harvey sets himself up on the couch with his laptop on the coffee table.

“What are you doing? Get over here.”

“No, no. I think I’ll let you talk to him on your own for a while first and then when you’ve caught up and stuff, I’ll rock into the conversation and say hi.”

Harvey looks like he’s trying not to laugh, as he nods and says, “Okay, sounds good. Why don’t you go away and practice your opening line and then come back when you’re ready.”

“Shut up,” Mike says, but the sound of the Skype ring tone prompts him into bolting from the room.

He makes himself a banana smoothie but feels too sick with nerves to drink it, and he decides that he’s procrastinated long enough anyway and that getting this whole thing over with should start sooner rather than later. So he walks—a little hesitantly—back to the living room, where he finds Harvey laughing at something Danny said. His eyes light up when he sees Mike enter the room.

“Here he is,” Harvey says with a grin. “Come meet my brother, Mike.”

Mike takes a deep breath and walks over to the couch, sliding in next to Harvey and gaping into the smiling face of Harvey’s brother. He’s not quite as handsome as Harvey but he’s got the same huge smile and kind, brown eyes.

“Hey,” Mike says. “Nice to meet you; I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise,” Danny says. “You’re all he talks about these days.”

“Is that him?” a squawking female voice sounds in the background.

Danny turns towards the voice. “Yes! Come here!”

“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!” And then a pretty, freckly redhead appears in the frame, beaming at Mike. She gasps. “Look at you, you’re absolutely gorgeous. Harvey mentioned you were hot but I assumed that was just the love talking.” She turns to Danny, pointing her thumb at Mike. “Would you get a load of this kid already?” She turns her sparkling green eyes back to Mike. “When are you coming to stay with us?”

They’re both so nice Mike’s nerves vanish and he can’t believe he was actually worried about this. “You must be the infamous Helen,” Mike says. “Does he really talk about me all the time?”

“Totally,” Danny says.

“Yeah,” Helen agrees. “It’s sickeningly cute. You’ve transformed him, Mike.”

Danny nods in agreement. “Before you came along he was the most cynical bastard in the world. So tell us. What’s your secret?”

Helen glares at Danny and punches him in the arm. “Don’t be disgusting,” she says, making Danny giggle.

“Just because your mind is constantly in the gutter doesn’t mean mine is,” Danny retorts.

Helen grins and winks at Mike, Harvey rolls his eyes, and Mike realizes at that moment that he’s part of something; not only that, he’s been part of it for a while and he didn’t even know it.

The four of them talk for well over an hour, and they make plans for Mike and Harvey to take a trip to Boston in a month or so. Mike honestly can’t wait – he loves both Danny and Helen already and he wants to spend as much time with them as possible.

~

The meeting with Grammy doesn’t go quite as smoothly.

Mike spends the majority of the cab ride to the care home wondering if this plan to surprise her—with not just a new relationship but a new _boyfriend_ —is a dick move that will leave her feeling sucker-punched. And Harvey isn’t saying much either, he just stares out the window, clearly thinking the same fucking thing, and Mike doesn’t want to make him feel worse by admitting that he shares his concerns.

It’s not that his grandmother is a bigot or that she’ll have a problem with Harvey. But she is from a different generation and it’s definitely possible this will freak her out.

“So,” Mike says, when the car’s about five minutes away. “Maybe I should take some time on my own with her to…you know. Explain.”

Harvey nods. “I think that’s a good idea.”

~

When they reach the door of her room, Harvey says, “I’ll wait outside.”

Mike pecks him on the lips, says thanks, slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

Grammy’s eyes light up when she sees him. “Michael,” she says. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Hey Trouble,” he says, kissing her forehead hello and taking a seat. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around for a few weeks.”

“That’s quite all right, dear. Although I am glad to see you haven’t forgotten about me. You’re being a good boy, I trust?”

“I try,” Mike says. “Mostly.”

He lets her chatter away for a while about troublesome nurses and irritating inmates—

“—it’s not a prison, Grammy—”

“Are you sure about that?” she asks him, in all sincerity. 

When there’s a lull in the conversation, he says, “Hey, um, I’ve actually got something to tell you. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“What is it?”

Mike clears his throat, stares at her, swallows his fear. “I’m seeing someone. It’s serious.”

“Well that’s wonderful, sweetheart. When can I meet her?”

“Uh, okay, _now_ , because that’s one of the reasons I’m here, but the thing is—”

“She’s here?” Grammy claps her hands together. “Where is she? Bring her to me at once, Michael. I can’t believe you let me carry on for so long while she was waiting outside the entire time; I raised you better than that—”

“Grammy, hold up.” Mike raises his palm. “I haven’t finished. There’s something you need to know about this new person. Before you meet them.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “What?”

This is so much harder than Mike had expected it to be. “I, um.” He takes a few deep breaths. “Do you remember me telling you about my boss? Harvey?”

“Yes.”

“It’s him.” He can tell by the unchanging expression on Grammy’s face that she hasn’t understood him. “Harvey’s the person I’m seeing. He’s a guy. I’m in love with a man.” He spreads his hands and tries to make light of the situation. “Didn’t see that coming, am I right?” 

She’s processing Mike’s bombshell now, and it’s hard to tell what she’s thinking but one thing’s for sure: she’s not happy.

“You have a…” She squints at Mike in confusion. “What is he? Your boyfriend?” She says it as if it’s the most unusual, nonsensical thing she’s ever heard. “Who is also…your boss.”

Mike nods. “Yup. He’s just outside. I really want you to meet him."

The hostile knit of Grammy’s brow doesn’t budge. “I’m not sure I want to meet him,” she says.

Mike blanches. “What? Grammy, you can’t be serious.”

“Michael, dear, I can see that _you_ are serious, and I want to be happy for you. But this man has abused his position as your employer and—”

“Wait, no. It’s not like that.” Mike reaches out and takes her hand in both of his. “We love each other. I wanna spend my life with him.”

Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open. She doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Grammy?”

“I…” It’s difficult to parse the worry in his grandmother’s eyes when Mike knows it has no basis in reality or reason. “I suppose…I’d better meet him then.”

Mike leaps up and goes to let Harvey in.

And then his grandmother’s first words to Harvey when he enters the room: “So you’re the young man who’s taken advantage of my grandson.”

Harvey offers her a wry smile. “Yep, that’s me.” He gestures to the empty seat by her armchair that Mike had been sitting in. “May I?”

Instead of answering him she shrugs, so Harvey takes a seat.

She glares at Harvey through narrowed eyes, and Mike can’t do much other than watch in fascination, as the third degree begins. “How long has this been going on?” 

“We got together a few months ago. I tried to resist at first—”

Mike barks out a laugh and Harvey shoots him a Look.

“—but the truth is, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He makes me happy, and I want to do everything in my power to make him happy. Which means I have to make _you_ happy, because you’re the most important person in his life.”

Mike can actually see Grammy thawing before his eyes, and he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. No one can resist that Specter charm for long.

Although she continues to grill him for another twenty minutes, apparently in an effort to assure herself that Harvey is not some evil sexual predator whose mission in life is to corrupt young, innocent heterosexual fake-lawyers only to break their hearts when he inevitably gets bored . But Harvey holds his own, and after an hour of trading stories about Mike the two of them are best friends.

All in all, it’s a victorious day, and on the way back home they stop at Mike’s apartment to pick up his bike and a suit for him to wear to work on Monday. The only discussion they have about it goes like this:

“I’m staying with you tonight, right?”

“Yes.”

~

It’s a mad rush in the morning, and when Mike is finally showered, shaved, dressed and ready to leave, it’s already eight thirty. He yells bye to Harvey and steps into the elevator, Harvey striding after him, but before he can close the door, Harvey grabs his hand and pulls him back inside with a grumpy frown. “I want a proper goodbye,” he says, kissing Mike on the mouth.

Mike curls his arms around Harvey’s neck and kisses him back for a while, before saying, “I really have to go. I’ll see you at work soon.”

“You shouldn’t have to bike in to work when you can just come in the car with me.”

“I like biking in,” Mike tells him. “And anyway, Ray doesn’t know about us yet.”

“So we’ll tell him.”

“You wanna tell Ray before you tell Donna?”

Harvey sighs in defeat. “Good point.”

“When are we gonna tell Donna?”

“Soon. I wanna let her stew a little bit longer.”

“You’re a terrible person,” Mike says with a snicker, kissing him one last time and dashing off.

~

Donna watches them like a hawk all week and Mike suspects she’s close to figuring out the truth. To be honest, he can’t wait until she knows for sure, and he’s sorely tempted to circumvent Harvey’s (ridiculous) plan to tell Donna only after she’s already been driven mad with curiosity and just put her out of her misery already. If for no other reason than so Mike will have someone to talk to about Harvey.

It’s been hard not having anyone else to share his experience with or get advice from; and Donna will be the ideal confidante once she’s in the loop and has forgiven him for keeping her in the dark for so long.

Besides, her unrelenting, suspicious glare is not only unsettling it’s making Mike feel horribly guilty, so on Thursday Mike decides he’s going to insist Harvey tell her everything. Only he doesn’t get the chance, because she confronts the two of them in Harvey’s office, right before lunch.

Shutting the door behind her she stalks into the room directly between the two of them, and puts her hands on her hips. “Okay, I’ve had enough of you two and your secrets. Are you fucking or what?”

It makes them both laugh in surprise. “Cut to the chase, why don’t you,” Mike says.

“Well?” she demands. “Am I wrong?”

Harvey doesn’t say anything.

“Oh my God.” Her eyes lose their focus. “I knew it.” Then she refocuses her gaze onto Harvey. “How long?”

“We’re not talking about this here,” Harvey says.

Mike leaps up from his seat on the couch and bounds over to her, bouncing on his feet, disproportionately excited. “Ugh, I’m so happy you finally know. I’ve been dying to talk to you about this for ages.” Her lips twitch and Mike can tell he’s a hair’s breadth away from winning her over. “Do you wanna have lunch with me? I’ll tell you everything.”

She responds with a fast, agitated nod. “Yes.” 

“I thought we were having lunch?” Harvey says to Mike.

“Oh.” Mike looks at him apologetically. “Rain check?”

Donna is walking out and Mike is following her.

“Wait a minute,” Harvey says, sounding deeply confused by what just transpired. He calls after them as they exit the room: “Don’t talk about me!” 

But both Mike and Donna respond with a dismissive wave in Harvey’s direction, as Donna grabs her purse and the two of them head off for lunch, whispering conspiratorially to each other all the way down the hallway.

~

It’s a good lunch, not just because Mike got to talk about Harvey for once, instead of deliberately avoiding the topic in order to keep his feelings concealed from the world, but because by the end of it, Donna is completely on board with the relationship. She’d started off concerned, but Mike’s excited babbling proved so infectious that ultimately she had no choice but to embrace the affair as the positive, life-altering event that it is.

She was impressed that they managed to keep it from her as long as they did, but concerned about how they’ll continue to hide it from parties who’d be more hostile to the good news. “You both need to be more discreet moving forward. Jessica can’t know about this, you get that right?”

Mike promises her that they’ll be careful and then changes the subject back to Harvey and his quirky little habits, like how he loves seedless red grapes so much that when he’s got a bowl of them in front of him he can’t stop eating them until they’re all gone even though it upsets his stomach every time. 

They swap stories about Harvey for the whole hour and when they arrive back at the office they both crack up at his outraged expression, mostly because lurking beneath it is the bloom of pleasure every person takes in seeing the people closest to them connecting.

It’s only a week and a day later that the shit hits the fan.

~

All the partners and all the associates are in attendance at a fundraiser for breast cancer at Openhouse Gallery on Friday night. It’s being run by one of the firm’s biggest clients, Rebecca Innes—an heiress to her family’s billion dollar whole foods company, whose mother died of breast cancer two years ago. The main event of the night is an auction, and the partners have been strongly encouraged by Jessica to bid on some of the more high-end items. Harvey put a very generous bid in for a trip for two to Paris, and Mike is so excited he can’t stop chattering in Harvey’s ear about whatever pops into his head, no matter how incongruous, even when he realizes it’s getting on Harvey’s nerves.

The format of the party is unusual: semi-formal dress code, a DJ playing jazzy house music on the corner of a stage at one end of the main room; hot young waiters and waitresses wearing tight black clothing, wandering around with trays of delicious nibbles (the mini cheese burgers are Mike’s favorite—he has five of them) and glasses of champagne; it’s busy and trendy and surprisingly fun.

At one point Harvey moves away from him to mingle, but he finds his way back to Mike when a crowd gathers around the stage and the auctioneer starts reading out who won which prizes, and the two of them make each other laugh with bitchy asides about each winning bidder. When Harvey is named as the winner of the Paris trip, Mike whispers to him, “I wanna do a victory dance so badly right now.”

“Who says I’m taking you?” Harvey whispers back.

“I can’t believe I’m going to Paris,” Mike says, almost crippled with glee. “I’ve never been outside of Canada or the States.”

Harvey looks at him with his eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”

Mike shakes his head, basking in the warm glow of Harvey’s delighted smile.

A little later, Louis is congratulated on winning the red 2013 Corvette Grand Sport Convertible. Mike can’t hold in his laughter. “Oh sweet Jesus, Louis can’t pull off that car,” he says, clutching his stomach.

Beside him Harvey is chuckling away, and then there’s a hand on his back. Harvey’s palm is flat on Mike’s back and it’s traveling slowly upward and then it’s cupping— _squeezing_ —Mike’s neck.

“Oh shit,” Mike says, his smile disappearing, along with Harvey’s hand. He turns and sees Harvey staring straight ahead, unblinking, his jaw clenched.

Before Mike can check to see if anyone spotted what just happened, Harvey says, “Don’t turn around.” Which Mike gets, because turning around will only make them look guilty, but Christ it’s not easy. The temptation to find out if they were seen is almost unbearable, but then Harvey just walks away from him, crossing the room and engaging a pretty woman Mike doesn’t know in conversation. He’d probably be amused at the obviousness of Harvey’s diversionary tactic if he weren’t so concerned about the potential shit-storm they now have on their hands.

He’s standing near the back of the room and there aren’t that many people behind him; those who are there were likely paying attention to what’s happening on the stage, not to what Harvey’s hand was doing to Mike, but he can’t be sure unless he looks. And Mike needs to be sure. He gives it another thirty seconds before he decides it’s safe to turn around and assess the damage.

Only one person is looking straight at him. With a big smile on his face.

Kyle raises his glass at Mike and winks at him, and a wave of nausea hits Mike as he turns back towards the front of the room. 

Shit fuck shit fuck shit.

He’s desperate to duck outside so he can collect himself before he descends into a full-on panic attack, but he’s painfully conscious of Kyle behind him, and that the prick will now be watching every move he makes. It’s crucial he maintains his composure.

Harvey avoids Mike for the rest of the evening, and appears to be having a whale of a time chatting up every attractive woman in the joint, and so Mike follows his lead and hits on one the waitresses; he’s so successful she asks him to meet her once her shift ends, and then Mike is forced to confess that he’s actually unavailable and that he’s truly sorry for leading her on. It is not his finest moment, but it’s not entirely his fault. He can’t relax with the insidious presence of Kyle lurking forever in his periphery, that same wide, creepy smile pasted on his face and his eyes following Mike wherever he goes.

He and Harvey are so screwed.

~

At just after ten Mike decides to get the hell out of dodge. He can’t stand one more minute of Kyle’s scrutiny or of Harvey’s ignoring him, so he sends a quick text saying he’ll see Harvey at home, makes his excuses and leaves.

It’s pouring with rain outside and he doesn’t have an umbrella or a raincoat, so he jogs over to the cab stand, yanks open the door of the cab at the front of the line and dives in.

The further he gets away from Harvey and impending disaster, the more wound up he feels. Every muscle in his body is vibrating with tension, and breathing takes more effort than usual.

If they’re discovered...if it gets back to Jessica, Harvey could lose his job.

He obsesses over it all the way home in the cab, and then he paces the apartment for the hour and a half it takes for Harvey to get there, sauntering in like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Thanks for showing up,” Mike says, staring at him. “Are you kidding me?” Harvey looks at him as if he has no idea what Mike is talking about. “Harvey, you know we have a problem, right?

Harvey shrugs, walks past Mike to the bar and pours himself three fingers of whiskey. There’s an almost tangible thrum of tension about him, posing as cavalier indifference, and it scares the shit out of Mike. They need a solution to their problem, not denial.

“Why?” Harvey asks, taking a slug of whiskey. “Want some?” He doesn’t wait for Mike’s answer, he just pours the drink and proffers it in Mike’s direction.

Mike walks over to him and takes the glass. “We were seen. Kyle saw us.”

“Kyle saw what exactly?” Harvey still looks unconcerned.

“He saw you touch me. He saw—you know what he saw, you’re the one who did it. Why are you not more worried about this? This is bad. This is really bad.”

Harvey scoffs. “So he saw me pat you on the back. He doesn’t _know_ anything.”

“You did more than just ‘pat me on the back’, Harvey.”

“What do you mean?”

“You ran your hand slowly up my back and then you sort of, I dunno… _caressed_ my neck. It was intimate. If Kyle saw—and I’m certain that he did—he knows we’re fucking. He’s an asshole but he’s not stupid.”

Harvey’s eyes darken and his jaw is working overtime, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

And Mike takes pity on him. He’s had all night to process the mess they’ve gotten themselves into, while Harvey spent the entire evening in blissful ignorance. The man truly has a gift for pretending disaster isn’t right around the corner of Mike’s life. He sets them both up for a fall and then acts like they’re impervious to harm. He’s so unreasonably optimistic it’s almost admirable.

“Let’s just hope for the best,” Mike says. “We can’t predict what Kyle will do and I’m not gonna talk to him about it—it’ll only confirm his suspicions. And then he’ll probably try to blackmail me. I don’t know what he could possibly want from me but whatever it is I’m not giving it to him. Ever.”

Harvey shuts his eyes for a second, that unsettling air of belligerence suddenly eclipsed by the more discouraging cloak of defeat. “ _Fuck_.” He squeezes his temples between thumb and forefingers. “Everyone will know soon.”

Okay, Mike really can’t handle Harvey falling apart over this. “Rumor,” he says. “Hearsay. If it gets back to Jessica we’ll deny it. Kyle has no proof.”

“Fuck.”

Harvey’s thousand-yard stare is the most disconcerting thing Mike has ever seen, and for a second there he’s barely recognizable. But then, as fast as he’d lost his repose, he regains it; he takes a deep, fortifying breath through his nose, looks Mike in the eye, takes his phone out of his pocket and calls Donna. He tells her what happened, that trouble could be afoot, and to keep her ear to the ground. He hangs up.

“Be prepared, right?”

~

For the first time since they started seeing each other, their weekend kind of sucks. Harvey is moody and argumentative, cries off doing anything that’s actually fun or pleasurable, his lame excuse being that he has work to catch up on. Mike can’t tell if Harvey’s mad at Mike or at himself, but when he tries to raise it with him he only gets snapped at.

Frankly, Harvey’s behavior is pissing Mike the hell off. The predicament they’re in is pretty much all down to Harvey’s mistake, and yet Harvey hasn’t once apologized, or even taken ownership of what happened; if anything he’s acting like it’s all Mike’s fault.

Worse, they only have sex once the whole weekend, and the experience...while not exactly bad, is definitely disturbing. 

They spend all day Saturday working – sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, going through boring contract after boring contract with a fine-tooth comb, in an effort to find a loophole that they can exploit to their client’s advantage; they drink coffee and conspicuously avoid any and all topics relating to Kyle, Jessica, or the future of their relationship. Mike appreciates the appeal of avoidance but does not appreciate how much the thing they’re avoiding is affecting their dynamic. He doesn’t like seeing Harvey so anxious, because when Harvey is anxious he turns into someone who thinks lashing out at the people he loves is appropriate. 

Every attempt to cheer Harvey up, or convince him that all the work they’re doing can wait until Monday, is met with resistance, and it’s not until eight o’clock on Saturday night, when Mike stands up and says, “You know what? I think I’m gonna go home,” that Harvey snaps out of his dour mood.

He gets angry instead. 

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Mike recoils, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “You can’t tell me what to do. And I am going. Because you’re being a dick and I don’t wanna be around you any more.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen; and it’s not that he wants to go home, he’s really just trying to make a point, but he still doesn’t expect the reaction he gets.

He’s in the bedroom, standing by the bed and about to put on his shoes, when Harvey catches up to him. Rough hands grip his biceps from behind, tight to the point of pain, and then he’s shoved. Hard. He lands face down on the bed with a thump, the shock of it causing Mike to gasp, and attempt to crawl away; but Harvey grabs him by his calves and pulls him backwards. “I said: you’re not going anywhere.” He sounds so menacing that Mike’s heart rate spikes in panic and his cock stiffens in his jeans.

They haven’t had sex since last Sunday and Mike is definitely (always) amenable to the idea, but this feels all kinds of wrong.

“Stop it,” he says. “Don’t.” He rolls over onto his back and makes eye contact. Harvey’s eyes are blazing with fury and he doesn’t look turned on or like he’s getting any pleasure out of what’s happening. “Not like this.”

Harvey’s lip curls into a contemptuous smile and he says, quiet and threatening, “I thought you liked it like this.” He bends and unzips the fly of Mike’s jeans, reaches into Mike’s briefs and pulls out his cock. Then he stands up straight again and nods at the offending member. “See. You’re already hard. You don’t want me to stop at all. You lied to me.”

“Fuck you,” Mike says, sitting up and tucking himself away. “I’m hard because you have that effect on me but that doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you right now. Not when you’re clearly more interested in hurting me than making me feel good.”

He tries to stand up but Harvey pushes him back down onto the bed and climbs on after him, straddling him and grinding against his erection. The sensation of it makes Mike moan, and he tries so hard not to move his hips he tries but he needs more friction he can’t help it—

Harvey closes a hand around Mike’s throat and whispers in his ear, “Don’t ever threaten to leave me again.” Fingers squeeze his trachea and Harvey keeps talking. “I’ll tie you up, then you won’t be able to leave. And I’ll do whatever I want to you.”

Mike bucks up and makes a desperate keening sound that elicits a laugh from Harvey.

“You wanna be owned so much,” Harvey says. “Don’t move.” 

And then he’s off Mike, off the bed, heading into the closet, and this is Mike’s chance to escape.

Instead he strips off his clothes so that when Harvey returns from the closet with a coil of thin black rope in his hand, Mike is naked and ready for him.

It’s probably the first genuine smile Harvey’s given him all day. “Good boy,” he says, and then he presents the rope to him. “This is made of silk – so you won’t be too uncomfortable. Now turn over onto your stomach and put your arms behind your back, like this.” He turns his back on Mike and demonstrates: bending his elbows at ninety degree angles, his wrists on top of one another. 

Mike obeys without question and Harvey is soon straddling him and curling the rope around and around his wrists, like he’s done this a million times before. The knot is tight enough so that Mike can’t move his arms, but not so tight it hurts, and Mike distantly wonders how long Harvey’s had this rope. Has he tied anyone else up with it or did he buy it especially for Mike? And what other sex-related paraphernalia does he have hidden away in his closet? The mattress beneath his cheek is so snug Mike feels dozy; he shuts his eyes and lets the sensation of Harvey’s soothing hands, stroking his thighs and ass, lull him into a dreamy state of blissful security.

Harvey is massaging his ass cheeks with firm, knowing hands, and murmuring soft words of encouragement to Mike. “I love how pliable you are. How you do anything I say.” Occasionally his fingertips slip into the crack of Mike’s ass and skate over his hole, but it’s only a tease. “You will be rewarded for taking your punishment bravely.”

Punishment?

“But first I need to teach you not to threaten me.” 

Harvey presses a series of gentle kisses to Mike’s buttocks and then Mike’s being manhandled into a new position, across Harvey’s knee. The stiff length of Harvey’s erection rests against Mike’s hip through the sweatpants Harvey’s still wearing.

And then Mike gets a spanking.

It’s less painful than the strap, and possibly even more arousing, with Harvey’s bare hand laying into him and the persistent rub of Harvey’s cock against him, both a reminder of how much Harvey loves him.

When it’s over Harvey gently lays Mike back on the bed, face down. Mike keeps his eyes shut and spreads his legs as wide as he can to make room for Harvey. He listens to Harvey stripping, and moans when Harvey climbs between Mike’s legs, spreads Mike’s burning ass cheeks with his hands, and buries his wet mouth and tongue in Mike’s crack, causing Mike to sob a little in gratitude. The pleasure of it is almost unbearable.

Harvey licks and fingers his ass for an eternity, helping Mike keep his mind off the fiery ache in his arms, and it’s so good Mike finally speaks up, his voice a hoarse croak, the only word he’s capable of saying, _please...please...please..._

When Harvey is ready to fuck him he climbs astride Mike’s hips and he grabs a handful of Mike’s hair as he enters him. It’s an aggressive fuck, which apparently they both need, because Mike enjoys every second of it, coming into the mattress long before Harvey climaxes. 

Mike finds anal sex uncomfortable after he’s had an orgasm, but it doesn’t matter; as long as Harvey’s happy he can put up with a little discomfort. 

~

Afterwards, Harvey unties Mike and spends an hour holding him, kissing him, stroking him, massaging his sore arms and shoulders, and telling him how proud he is of him.

It’s all perfect except for the fact that he doesn’t apologize , and in the morning Mike wakes up feeling resentful, and like nothing was actually resolved. Kinky sex is all well and good (and Mike secretly loves Harvey’s reason for punishing him) but it still isn’t cool the way Harvey used it to deflect from his own terrible behavior. It’s not even as though Mike’s pissed about Harvey slipping up at the fundraiser—that could have happened to either of them—but acting like an ass all day and then flipping out at Mike for not putting up with it? Not okay. So instead of waking Harvey and initiating their usual Sunday morning screw, he gets up and jumps in the shower. 

Even the hand-shaped bruises on his ass fail to raise his spirits.

Rather than confront Mike about his decision to get up early on a Sunday (which would ordinarily never happen) Harvey reverts to the sullen, uncommunicative mood of yesterday. Their conversation is polite and faux-light-hearted, but nonetheless unpleasant for its lack of authenticity.

Fuck Kyle for doing this to them.

By mid afternoon, Mike feels upset and antsy – he wants to get away from Harvey and the poisonous atmosphere of this weekend, spend some time on his own and figure out how he’s going to get through the coming week. Because there’s no way in hell things aren’t going to kick off at work. It’s going to happen, and maybe it won’t actually be the worst thing in the world, but Harvey’s current bad attitude is sure making it feel that way. 

So, even though he knows Harvey expects him to stay again tonight, Mike reaches a decision at four o’clock. He puts down his book, stands up and goes to sit next to Harvey on the couch.

He picks up Harvey’s hand and holds it. “I’m gonna head out. ” A dark cloud passes over Harvey’s features. “Listen to me. This weekend has been kinda shitty, and you know it. There’s a huge fucking elephant in the room that you refuse to talk about. And I get it. You’re scared. I am too. Because we don’t have any control over what’s gonna happen and that sucks. But I need to be on my own for a while, to think about things, which I can’t do when I’m here and walking on eggshells around you, because apparently the way you deal with being angry at yourself is to take it out on me. So, I’m going. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

This time Harvey lets him go, and the moment Mike sets foot outside Harvey’s building he feels a weight lift from his shoulders.

~

He doesn’t get to speak to Harvey until late on Monday afternoon, when they finally find a moment between meetings to catch up.

“Donna hasn’t heard anything yet,” Harvey tells him, but the relief Mike feels at that is tempered by dread.

She has nothing to report on Tuesday or Wednesday either, and Harvey proposes that maybe Kyle did not in fact see anything after all and that they might be in the clear. 

Mike rejects the idea out of hand. “No, he saw. He’s just biding his time, because he’s pure evil.”

They hear nothing until Friday afternoon, when Donna tells them that rumors have started to surface. She suggests the three of them get off the premises asap and find somewhere neutral to talk about it; specifically somewhere that serves decent cocktails.

They walk to a bar Donna promises them is great, which has the added attraction of being several blocks away from Pearson Hardman and having a clientele entirely lacking anyone resembling a lawyer. They settle into a booth in the corner and Donna fills them in on what she’s heard.

Apparently no one is naming Kyle as the source of the rumor—no one knows where the story comes from—and while people are enjoying it, most seem skeptical about its credibility.

“What exactly are people saying?” Harvey asks.

Donna gives him a patient look. “That you two are sleeping together.”

“Ah.”

“Like I said, people think the story is funny more than plausible. But it’s out there, and it’s only a matter of time before Jessica finds out, if she hasn’t already. So prepare yourself for a dressing down. Or a job hunt.”

Polishing off her third cocktail, Donna stands up, salutes them and leaves them to it, and Mike and Harvey finally have a proper conversation about their next course of action.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week, Harvey, and there is one thing I can do that will solve this problem.”

Harvey tilts his head and regards him curiously. “What?”

Mike dons his most confident and pragmatic expression. “I’ll leave,” he says. “I can get another job.”

“No,” Harvey replies without hesitation, as if Mike’s crazy to even suggest it. “You’re my associate. I want us to keep working together.”

Mike takes Harvey’s hand in his. “Me too, but this is more important.”

“Yes, it is, Mike, I agree, but work is…I spend most of my time at work and I’ve always liked my job. But you…you make me _love_ my job. You make going to work every damn day a better experience.” He shakes his head, his mouth quirking up to the side. “You changed everything. My life. Me. Long before we became lovers. I don’t want to lose the thing that brought us together; I don’t want to pretend it’s not important to me too. I love mentoring you, and I love learning from you. I don’t want to just see you on weekends. I want to work with you. Every day.” He stops, sighs, frustrated. “I know it’s not forever—”

Mike stops breathing. 

“What?” 

“We can’t work together forever,” Harvey says. “You’ll make partner, and you and I won’t be a team any more.”

A gust of relief fills Mike’s chest, helping him breathe again. “We’ll always be a team, Harvey, even when I’m not your subordinate. Hell, especially then.”

“So you’ll stay.”

Mike smiles, his resolve melting. “Like I’d say no after that little speech.” He raises his eyes to the ceiling. “I’m glad _you_ said no. I reeeally don’t wanna work with anyone else.”

The grin on Harvey’s face is so infectious Mike feels like there’s nothing they can’t handle or overcome as long as they’re together.

“Harvey, can I ask you something?”

He nods.

“Were you attracted to me from the beginning?”

Harvey’s eyebrows shoot up, and it’s nice to know Mike still has the power to surprise him. “Uh…”

“Holy shit, you’re speechless. And I honestly can’t tell whether it’s because you _were_ , and that’s kind of embarrassing, or because you _weren’t_ , and you’re trying to spare my feelings.” Mike’s eyes widen. “Oh my God you were.”

Harvey rolls his eyes and Mike laughs. “I didn’t want to fuck you right off the bat, no. To be honest I wasn’t…fully aware of my attraction to you until that night, at the gala, after the gala. The night I propositioned you.”

“So you admit it!”

Harvey looks amused. “I guess I can’t keep up the pretense any longer. I admit that that night, I wasn’t asking you inside ‘as friends’.” He even mimes the air quotes. “I was drunk, and you were smiling at me, and you were so fucking gorgeous. I wanted you, and I’d never felt that before with you. Not like that. I mean of course I’d noticed how pretty you are...”

Mike beams.

“I don’t wanna…” Harvey looks down, pursing his lips. “That stupid ‘only on weekends’ rule. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Oh thank God. Me either.”

“We’ll play it by ear.”

Mike chuckles. “I’m gonna be at yours every night, aren’t I.”

“Maybe not,” Harvey says, but he’s not remotely convincing. “And hey. I’m sorry about last weekend.”

“It’s okay, I already forgave you.”

~

Even though their future at Pearson Hardman is in a more precarious position than it was a week ago, this weekend is a million times better than last. They’re both quite drunk by the time they get home on Friday night, and in such high spirits since agreeing to extend the terms of their relationship contract to include weekdays, that they fall into bed giggling, before launching into a marathon sex session that doesn’t let up until late Saturday afternoon, at which time Mike insists they get out of bed and go outside before the cabin fever sets in. They go for a long walk in Central Park; occasionally stopping to pet dogs, or play Frisbee with random young people. They pick up some Chinese takeout on the way home and then veg out in front of the TV, watching _Game of Thrones_ until one in the morning.

On Sunday they get up and go out for breakfast, and then when they get home again Mike asks Harvey what he wants to do, and Harvey suggests they have sex, to make up for going nearly twenty-four hours without it.. 

Mike can’t fault his logic, and when they get to the bedroom he says to Harvey: “We should film it.”

The doubtful look on Harvey’s face is adorable. “I don’t think so. The last thing we need out in the world right now is a sex tape.”

“It’s not gonna be out in the world, it’s gonna be on your phone. And mine. Come on, it’ll be hot. Don’t you wanna immortalize our love-making for future generations?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m just kidding.” Mike holds Harvey’s face in his hands and kisses him. “If you’re that worried we can always keep our faces out of it. You can just film your dick going into my ass.”

“If we’re doing it, we’re doing it right. And it won’t be right without your pretty face in the shot.”

Mike does the Chandler victory dance until Harvey cracks up, and then Harvey says, “I have a camcorder. Let’s set it up on a tripod, and we’ll use our phones too, and then we’ll edit all the footage into something watchable when we’re done.”

“Oh fuck that’s so dirty and hot. And also kind of nerdy. I love you. ” Harvey grins and walks out of the room, Mike following him. “Wait, have you done this before?”

“Haven’t you?”

“Well yeah, but not with like, three cameras. I filmed my girlfriend sucking my dick with my phone one time.”

Harvey stops walking and turns to face him, expression serious. “Do you still have that video?”

Mike gives him a knowing smile. “Yes.”

“Can I—” His eyes lose their focus for a moment. “Can I see it?” 

“Of course,” Mike replies. “But one thing at a time, yeah? Let’s get that camera.”

Mike trails Harvey through the house for no reason other than he just doesn’t want to be apart from him, and they enter Harvey’s office – a room Mike has only been in once, when he had the grand tour, and which, as far as knows, Harvey never uses. Harvey’s things all have their place, and the camcorder (plus paraphernalia) has its own shelf in one of the tall, elegant black cabinets. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Mike says as they head back to the bedroom, Harvey carrying the camera, Mike the tripod. “Have you done this before? And can I see it?”

“I don’t recall you asking that second question,” Harvey says.

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Harvey. I’ll only show you mine if you show me yours.”

They arrive back in the bedroom and begin preparations. “One thing at a time,” Harvey says, leaving Mike to set up the tripod and camera, while he experiments with the lighting levels in the room. He looks around, narrowed eyes analytical, dimming the lights lower and lower, and then brighter again, correcting himself until he’s satisfied. Mike’s impressed: it’s bright enough for the cameras to catch what’s happening but not so bright it kills the mood. The tripod stands at the foot of the bed, camera aimed at where the majority of the action will take place. Harvey presses Record, pulls a chair up beside the tripod, facing the bed, and sits down. He takes his phone out of his pocket and places it on the bed in front of him, nodding at Mike. “Now sit on the bed and look pretty for the camera.”

Arousal ripples through Mike’s belly, but he doesn’t do what he’s told just yet. First he carefully balances his own phone on the bedside table, ensuring that the complete view of Harvey sitting in his chair is captured in the camera’s frame; his face, dark with intent, a provocative complement to the obscene spread of his legs. Nothing is better in this life than a turned on Harvey. Mike hits Record, and climbs onto the bed, staring at Harvey and awaiting further instruction.

“Touch yourself,” Harvey says, picking up his own phone, watching Mike through the lens.

This is Mike’s opportunity to lose himself in exhibitionism, to turn Harvey on by performing for him, and his cock’s already half hard at the prospect. He runs his hands up and down his denim-clad thighs, before sliding them over his groin and between his legs, but not allowing himself to touch his cock yet. He writhes a little, circling his hips, cock getting harder and harder under the camera and Harvey’s watchful gaze, until he’s fucking the air, fully clothed and flushed with heat.

“Look how turned on you are,” Harvey murmurs. “Gorgeous. Take off your t-shirt.”

The direct order causes Mike to groan, arch his back, and clutch the duvet in his fists. At times like these Mike wonders how he copes at work when Harvey gives him orders; how he isn’t walking around with a huge boner in his pants all day is beyond him. He pulls off his shirt and squeezes his cock through his jeans.

“That’s good, Mike.” Harvey says. “Very good.”

By the time Mike is fully naked and squirming on the bed, cock in his hand and eyes flitting between the two cameras pointed at him, Harvey is massaging his own cock through his pants while he continues to give instructions and encouragement. 

“Get your fingers wet and put them inside yourself.” Mike enjoys the way Harvey’s facial muscles slacken as he watches Mike suck on two of his fingers with the same enthusiasm he takes in sucking Harvey’s cock, but when he inserts them into his asshole he has to close his eyes, as his head falls back onto the pillow. His knees are bent and legs spread wide, and he’s well aware that the view could not be any filthier, but that’s a thought that only intensifies his arousal.

He fucks himself with his fingers and when he looks back at Harvey he can’t help but smile at the expression on his face: riveted by the movement between Mike’s legs, the heavy weight of desire rendering his features immobile. 

“I wanna see your cock,” Mike says, and Harvey blinks back to reality, nodding. “Wait!” Mike crawls over to the bedside table and grabs his phone, then moves down the bed so he can get a decent close-up of the action. Harvey puts down his own phone, unzips his fly and pulls out his cock—now fully erect—before placing his arms on the armrests of the chair and waiting for Mike’s reaction. Mike’s so turned on by the sight of it it’s as if he’s never seen it before, and when he speaks the lust rushing through him distorts his voice. “I wanna suck it so badly.”

“Do it,” Harvey says, picking up his phone again and standing up. He stands flush against the foot of the bed and holds his cock by its base in one hand, phone in the other, and Mike wants to be a good boy so when he lowers his mouth onto Harvey’s dick he stares up at him, straight into the camera. “Oh shit, yes. Mike you little camera whore, goddamn you look beautiful. Suck that cock.” 

They don’t stay in the position for long, because they’re out of the shot of the camcorder, but when they shift up the bed Mike says, “Can we kiss for a while? There’s never any decent kissing in porn and there should be because it’s hot.”

Harvey agrees. It’s a needy, passionate make-out session that Mike is certain will be sexy as hell to watch back later, and they keep things interesting by interspersing their kisses with the removal of Harvey’s clothing. 

~

They get an hour of footage before they’re interrupted.

Mike’s on all fours, Harvey behind him filming himself fucking Mike’s ass, his voice a breathless whisper, “Looks so good.”

The phone rings. And not the cell-phone Harvey’s currently using as a video camera, but the landline.

Harvey stills.

“Are you gonna get that?” Mike asks him, panting.

“It’s not the phone; it’s the doorman. Someone’s here.”

“Oh. Are you gonna get that?”

Harvey seems reluctant to move but then he tosses the cell-phone onto the mattress and extracts himself, slips off the bed, walks across the room and plucks the phone out of its cradle on the wall.

“Yeah?” he says into the receiver. Whatever the person on the other end says to Harvey has the effect of wilting his erection. It goes from rock-hard to flaccid in the space of one disheartening second, and Mike’s entire body tenses. “Send her up.”

He hangs up the phone and turns to Mike. “Jessica’s here.”

Mike’s mouth falls open and he stares at Harvey in disbelief. “What?”

“Jesus.”

“Does she pop over uninvited a lot?”

“Of course not,” Harvey says, pulling on his jeans.

“Oh my God. She knows.”

Harvey tugs on his t-shirt and then sits on the edge of the bed. “I think that’s a safe assumption.” He puts on his shoes and socks, stands up and turns to Mike. “Stay here.” And then he leaves.

There’s no way Mike is just gonna wait around in bed wondering what the fuck is going on out there, so he hustles around for his clothes and is fully dressed again in record time; he creeps through the house until he hears Harvey’s voice—offering Jessica a drink.

“No thank you,” Jessica says. “I won’t take much of your time.”

“What are you doing here, Jessica?”

Mike peers around the corner into the entrance hall where Harvey and Jessica are standing—a few paces away from each other; he can’t see Harvey’s face, but he can see Jessica’s, and she’s not smiling.

“I heard a disturbing rumor about you and Mike Ross on Friday. I’m not here for a confession or a denial. The less I know the better. Just stop now, okay? And then we’ll never speak of it again.”

Mike might barf his heart right out of his mouth. Jessica isn’t here to fire Harvey, or even scold him. She’s here because she wants to keep him.

“Are you kidding me?” Harvey says.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“No. You don’t. What if I say no?”

Jessica’s eyebrows shoot skyward. “Well that would be a very self-destructive decision on your part now, wouldn’t it.”

“Jessica, stop.” Harvey looks off to the side, shaking his head, before turning back to face her. “I’m not ending it.”

“Harvey—”

“He’s here right now. Hell, he’s probably listening to this conversation.”

Mike clears his throat and rounds the corner. “Guilty.” He lifts his palm and waves at Jessica. “Hi.”

She sucks in her cheeks, a flare of exasperation in her big, dark eyes. “Jesus Christ. This is not happening.” 

Mike joins Harvey’s side, and the two of them face Jessica, an unstoppable force. They’re the Dream Team and no one, not even this fierce, terrifying lady, can stand in their way. “Oh, and if he goes, I go ,” Mike says. He knows he doesn’t mean as much to her as Harvey does, but he also knows that the two of them together are by far her most valuable asset, and that losing both of them would hurt the firm far more than turning a blind eye to their relationship.

Jessica stares at Harvey for a very long time.

Finally, she speaks, and she sounds both weary and incredulous. “Harvey Specter, are you in love?”

Harvey’s face breaks out into a huge, helpless smile. “Hey, I didn’t see it coming either.”

Mike slings an arm around his shoulder and grins at Jessica. “I’m the best thing that ever happened to him,” he says.

“You can’t—” she pauses, eyes flitting back and forth between them. “I can’t have you working together any more. We have rules in place—necessary rules—that can’t be bent just because you two think you’re above them. It’s never been easy with you, Harvey. Or you.” She looks at Mike. ”But this takes the cake.”

And Harvey doesn’t give a crap, never stops making her life a misery. “I’m not working with anyone else,” he tells her.

“You can’t have it both ways, Harvey,” Jessica snaps. “Your bed or your office. It’s your choice.”

But he won’t budge, and Mike is enjoying this far more than he probably should be. “I’m not making that choice. He’s my associate, and he’s my partner. That’s non-negotiable. If you want to fire me over it then fire me. Mike and I will work together one way or the other.”

She turns her gaze on Mike. “And when you get promoted and everyone thinks it’s because you’re sleeping with the boss, you’re okay with that?”

Mike shrugs. “I can’t control the thoughts of others; all I can do is earn my promotion by doing good work. The only opinions that matter to me are yours and Harvey’s.”

Standing there, shaking her head at them, Jessica says one final thing before she walks out: 

“Goddamn you both.”

The door shuts behind her and Harvey looks at Mike with wide, dumbfounded eyes. “So that happened.”

Mike wraps his arms around Harvey’s waist and kisses him.

“Do you think she’ll fire us?”

Harvey shakes his head and smiles. 

“ _Nah._ ”

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

Bodies wet with sweat and chests heaving, they break apart and collapse onto their backs on the bed. 

“What number are we up to?” Harvey puffs out.

“Ninety-seven,” Mike replies. “Ninety-eight if we count the incident at Donna’s birthday dinner last month.”

“We’re not counting that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we barely even got started.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Louis Litt’s.”

Mike concedes. “Yeah, okay. His timing truly is horrible.”

“Poor guy. I think we scarred him for life.”

They both laugh.

Everyone knows about them now. 

But only Mike knows the real Harvey.

The guy who likes a beer and a burger and the game; who likes going to the cinema to see whatever latest critically acclaimed but still totally mainstream film is playing, and who shares a giant tub of popcorn with Mike and drinks a jumbo Coca Cola to wash the brittle kernels down. The guy who’s quietly devoted to his family and who occasionally expresses an interest in having children of his own some day. Who enjoys cooking, has a weakness for red grapes, dark chocolate and whipped cream, and who favors getting drunk with Mike ahead of anyone else in the world because Mike is “more fun than everyone else”. He’s the guy who likes watching TV in bed, who sometimes can’t shut up about baseball or cars or music; who, when he comes across something interesting in the paper or online, likes reading aloud to Mike; who has the most beautiful speaking voice Mike’s ever heard. He’s the guy who looks deeply suspicious every time Mike suggests they get a kitten, but who, thanks to Mike’s campaign of spamming him with adorable photos, and hilarious cat macros and gifs, is definitely warming to the idea. He’s the guy who took Mike to meet his entire family at Christmas, and who asked Mike to officially move in with him in January.

He’s the guy who turned Mike’s life upside down and inside out. 

He’s the guy who makes every day worth living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for one dubcon/angry/bdsm sex scene, that is ultimately consensual (and a lot of fun).


End file.
